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XDITKD  BT 

MRS    OLIPHAKT 


EABELAIS 


RABELAIS 


BY 

WALTER    BESANT,  M.A. 


PHILADELPHIA.* 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 


njLlUcJ^i     \C\CK 


HENRY  MORSt  S  i  £PHEfcU» 


NOTE. 


The  translations  in  the  following  chapters  are  in  some 
cases  my  own;  in  others  taken  from  Urquhart  and 
MotteuXt  after  comparison  with  the  original 


2T  i    A  r><  >**>  <rs 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION, 
I.   HIS  LIFE, 


II.    THE  GIANT   OP  TOURAINE,     .  . 

III.  THE  ABBEY    OP   THELEMA,      . 

IV.  THE  YOUTH   OP   PANTAGRUEL, 

V.    PANUROE, 

VI.   THE  QUEST   OP  THE   DIVINE   BOTTLE, 
VIL    THE  ORACLE   OF  THE   BOTTLE,         .  . 


1 

5 

50 

71 

78 

92 

127 

178 


»  , 


' •   •     -♦,•; 


RABELAIS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

The  initial  difficulty  which  presents  itself  to  him  who 
would  treat  of  Rabelais,  is  that  he  must  refrain  from 
advising  his  readers,  unless  they  are  undertaking  a 
serious  study,  to  follow  up  his  own  account  by  reading 
the  original.  Alone  among  the  great  writers  of  the 
world,  Rabelais  can  be  appreciated  by  students  only. 
To  the  general  reader,  to  the  young,  to  women  in  all 
ages,  he  is  a  closed  book.  For  very  shame  he  must  be 
hidden  away.  His  real  features  are  only  revealed  to  those 
who  lift  the  veil  with  serious  intent  to  study  and  not  to 
laugh.  To  all  others  the  man  is  a  buffoon,  and  the  book 
is  what  Voltaire  called  it  in  the  early  days  before  he 
understood  it,  "Un  ramas  des  plus  grossieres  ordures 
qu'un  moine  ivre  puisse  vomir." 

Calvin,  Luther,  Stephen  the  Printer,  La  Bruyere,  Fene- 
lon,  Lamartine,  among  other  wise  and  learned  men,  found 
Rabelais  insupportable  and  abominable.  On  the  other 
hand,  Cardinal  Dupexron  called  'Pantagruel'  "lelivre;" 

F.C. — VIIL  A 


2  RABELAIS. 

Bishop  Btnet  annotated  Rabelais  in  four  different  editions; 
Coleridge,  Victor  Hugo,  Michelet,  Kingsley — a  whole 
chorus  of  nobie  voices  has  been  raised  in  defence  and 
praise  of  the  man  and  his  took.  .Almost  every  French- 
man who  studies  the  literature  of  his  own  country  finds 
it  necessary  to  produce  an  essay  on  Rabelais;  almost  every 
French  writer  of  these  days  endeavours  to  extenuate  his 
faults  and  to  magnify  his  name.  Among  these  writers 
of  our  own  age  are  Ste  Beuve,  Villemain,  Philarete 
Chasles,  Lenient,  Prosper  Merimee,  Victor  Hugo,  Guizot, 
Michelet,  Lacroix,  and  Jules  Janin.  No  other  author 
has  been  so  repeatedly  the  subject  of  criticism.  But 
on  Rabelais,  as  on  Shakespeare,  the  last  word  will  never 
be  said.  No  book  on  Rabelais  has  yet  appeared,  or  ever 
will  appear,  that  can  be  considered  exhaustive. 

It  is  the  main  object  of  the  present  volume  to  show 
by  what  qualities  Rabelais  has  drawn  to  himself,  and  con- 
tinues to  draw,  the  praise  and  admiration  of  those  who 
study  him.  In  the  preparation  of  the  work  I  have  con- 
sulted all  those  writers  named  above,  and  a  good  many 
more ;  and  I  have  reconsidered  every  point  of  a  previ- 
ous judgment  which  I  ventured  to  pronounce  on  Rabelais 
five  years  ago  in  my  book  on  the  French  Humourists.  I 
desire,  however,  especially  to  call  the  attention  of  those 
who  require  a  more  extended  study  on  Rabelais  than  my 
limits  will  allow,  to  the  book,  in  two  volumes,  of  M.  Jean 
Fleury  (Paris:  Didier,  1877).  There  are  many  points  on 
which  I  cannot  agree  with  M.  Fleury  in  his  conclusions, 
as,  for  instance,  on  the  religious  belief  of  Rabelais.  But  I 
must  acknowledge  my  great  obligations  to  the  book,  especi- 
ally as  to  the  "  Voyage  of  the  Divine  Bottle."  That  part 
of  the  '  Pantagruel,' — the  most  important  and  the  most 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

interesting — has  never  before,  I  think,  been  so  clearly 
and  so  sensibly  set  forth.  In  fact,  the  great  merit  in  M. 
Fleury's  work  is  the  common-sense,  unencumbered  with 
traditional  rubbish,  which  he  brings  to  bear  upon  the 
difficulties  both  of  the  book  and  the  life. 

An  uncertainty,  quite  needless,  as  I  believe,  has  been 
introduced  into  the  life  of  Rabelais  by  a  desire  to  make 
him  out,  at  certain  periods  of  his  life,  younger  than  he 
really  was.  Thus  it  has  appeared  to  some  that  he  must 
have  been  thirty  instead  of  forty  when  he  emerged  from 
his  convent ;  that  for  a  grave  physician  of  fifty,  and  a 
lecturer  in  the  university,  to  act  in  a  farce  was  unseemly ; 
he  must  therefore,  they  say,  have  been  forty,  not  fifty. 
One  fails  to  see  how  the  unseemliness,  if  any,  is  removed 
by  this  curtailment  of  a  decade,  for  surely  it  is  as  inde- 
corous to  play  the  fool  at  forty  as  at  fifty.  It  is,  as  1 
hope  to  show  presently,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  fea- 
tures in  the  life  of  Rabelais,  that  he  was  always  young. 

It  is  objected,  again,  that  there  are  certain  years  of 
his  life  difficult  to  fill  up.  I  cannot  find  these  years. 
It  is  objected,  farther,  that  according  to  the  usual  dates 
of  their  birth,  the  Du  Bellay  brothers,  always  said  to 
have  been  his  schoolfellows,  would  be  eight  or  ten  years 
younger.  The  usual  dates,  however,  may  be  wrong, 
because  no  one  could  know  the  age  of  the  Du  Bellays 
better  than  Rabelais  himself,  and  he  distinctly  states  that 
the  eldest,  Guillaume,  died  in  the  year  1543,  in  the  year 
of  his  grand  climacteric — Van  de  son  age  I-e  climactere — 
that  is,  at  sixty-three,  which  would  make  him,  according 
to  the  usual  date,  just  three  years  older  than  his  protege. 
There  does  not  seem  to  me,  indeed,  the  slightest  reason 
for  altering  the  date  of  Rabelais's  birth.    Colletet,  Leroy, 


4  KABPLA1S. 

and  Bishop  Huet  collected  their  materials  when  his 
tomb  was  still  standing  with  his  name  and  age  upon  it. 
The  second  had  access  to  the  church  register  at  Meudon. 
The  Bishop  visited  Chinon,  and  got  every  scrap  he  could 
find  bearing  on  the  life.  Rabelais,  according  to  them 
all,  was  born  in  the  year  1483. 


CHAPTER   L 


HIS    LIFE. 


"  Mieulx  est  de  ris  qui  de  larmes  escripre." 

"  Better  it  is  to  write  of  laughter  than  of  tears." 

Francois  Eabelais  was  born  in  the  town  of  Chinon, 
province  of  Touraine,  in  the  year  1483,  the  same  year  in 
which  Luther  and  Eaphael  saw  the  light.  His  father, 
who  had  a  small  estate  or  vineyard,  called  La  Deviniere, 
near  the  town,  is  said  to  have  been  an  apothecary.  Some, 
carried  away  by  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  and 
unable  to  see  in  the  great  writer  anything  but  a  bon 
vivant,  say  that  his  father  kept  a  tavern.  Fifty  years 
after  the  death  of  Eabelais,  De  Thou,  speaking  of 
Chinon,  mentions  that  his  father's  house  had  then  be- 
come a  tavern,  and  writes  certain  epigrammatic  Latin 
verses,  in  which  the  shade  of  Eabelais  congratulates 
himself  on  such  a  fate  for  the  house  in  which  he  was 
born.  The  verses  seem  to  prove — first,  that  the  house 
had  not  before  been  a  cabaret ;  and  secondly,  that  the 
world  was  yet  only  in  the  first  stage  of  understanding 
the  character  of  Eabelais.  The  following  is  an  imitation 
of  the  lines  : — 


6  RABELAIS. 

"  So  did  I  live  from  youth  to  age, 

In  feast  and  wine,  in  mirth  and  song; 
So  did  I  write  that  every  page 
My  lifelong  banquet  should  prolong. 

Bacchus  my  god :  he,  lest  below, 
These  gloomy  shades  my  faith  should  kill, 

By  trusty  letters  lets  me  know 
What  things  his  votaries  compass  still. 

Before  my  father's  house,  he  says, 
A  tavern's  pole  and  bush  are  spread, 

To  point  whence  mirth  her  song  may  raise, 
Between  the  white  wine  and  the  red. 

Where  revellers  still  the  feast  prolong, 
And  laugh  and  sing  from  morn  to  night ; 

In  my  old  chamber  rings  the  song : 
In  my  old  garden  dwells  delight. 

Each  sings  in  turn  his  chansonette  ; 

Outside  let  frigid  prudence  rest ; 
And  here  the  dancers  pirouette, 

And  here  the  piper  pipes  his  best." 

There  seems  to  be  little  doubt  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
bouse,  which  is  still  shown ;  and  the  chain  of  traditions 
which  attaches  it  to  the  name  of  Rabelais  is  clearly 
complete  from  the  time  of  De  Thou.  It  stands  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Lamproie,  in  the  oldest  part  of 
the  town,  and  is  itself  certainly  the  oldest  house  in  the 
quartier.  It  is  built  of  a  yellowish-white  stone  quarried 
out  of  the  rock  behind,  which  supplied  the  stones  of  which 
the  castle  of  Chinon  itself  was  built.  It  has  an  old  door- 
way now  no  longer  used,  the  threshold  of  which  is  a  foot 
and  more  below  the  present  level  of  the  street :  there  arc 


CHIN  ON.  7 

two  or  three  old  windows,  and  two  modern  ones :  it  is  a 
house  of  two  storeys,  ground  and  first  floor,  with  a  large 
window,  a  double  dormer,  of  later  date,  in  the  high- 
pitched  roof.  The  Rue  de  la  Lamproie  in  which  it 
stands  is  an  ancient  and  narrow  street,  little  changed 
from  the  aspect  which  it  must  have  presented  four 
hundred  years  ago.  Then,  as  now,  the  houses,  built  of 
stone,  presented  low  projecting  fronts  over  a  narrow 
street  of  cobbled  stones  with  a  gutter  down  the  middle. 
The  open  booths  have  since  got  glass  fronts,  it  is  true, 
but  these  stand  open  all  day,  so  that  the  men  and  women 
who  work  and  talk  in  them  from  morning  till  night,  after 
the  industrious  manner  of  the  French,  may  see  and  take 
part  in  what  passes.  Then,  as  now,  the  women  at  early 
day  trudged  in  from  the  country  bearing  baskets  of  fruit, 
poultry,  and  eggs,  bringing  the  breath  of  the  fields  into 
the  close  streets,  wearing,  perhaps,  the  same  blue  stuff 
and  certainly  the  same  close  white  cap  :  then,  as  now,  sun- 
burnt boys  with  wooden  sabots  clattered  over  the  stones, 
driving  the  pack-laden  asses;  the  sad-faced  sisters  and 
nuns  glided  silently  about  the  streets;  and  the  burly 
monk  from  Seuilly,  red-faced  and  heavy-lipped,  lounged 
and  laughed  on  his  way  to  the  tavern  over  which  then, 
as  now,  the  bush  proclaimed  the  goodness  of  the  wine. 
There  was  the  open  baker's  shop,  there  was  the  same 
smell — an  omnipresent  smell  composed  of  fried  onions 
and  other  strong  ingredients  due  to  absence  of  drainage, 
— French  folk  are  conservative,  and  slow  to  learn.  Near 
the  end  of  the  street  was  the  old  church  of  St  Etienne, 
with,  outside,  its  carved  double  portal,  and  the  crown 
above  the  fleur-de-lys,  and,  inside,  the  scattered  figures 
of  white-capped  women,  who  in  France  maintain  between 


8  KABELAIS. 

them  a  Perpetual  Adoration.  Lower  down  still  was  the 
old  church  of  St  Mexme,  guardian  saint  of  Chinon :  its 
central  tower  and  spire  have  fallen  down,  but  the  severe 
and  plain  west  front  with  its  two  towers  stand  yet.  The 
Rue  de  la  Lamproie  is,  and  probably  always  was,  a  street 
of  small  booths  and  workshops.  The  birthplace  of 
Rabelais,  however,  is  a  corner  house.  The  narrow  street 
to  which  it  also  belongs  contains  white  and  trim  hotels 
standing  in  their  own  gardens,  kept  secluded  from  intru- 
sive gaze  by  high  stone  walls,  so  that  the  street  has  a  sort 
of  Moorish  aspect.  Here  were  then,  as  now,  the  resi- 
dences of  the  better  class,  the  gens  de  la  robe. 

As  regards  the  situation  of  the  town,  no  better  could 
have  been  found  to  fill  the  brain  of  an  imaginative  child 
with  food  for  delightful  thought.  It  stands  quiet  now, 
and  bereft  of  its  former  greatness,  on  the  north  bank  of 
the  swift  and  bright  Yienne,  some  eight  miles  above  its 
junction  with  the  Loire.  A  long  bridge  connects  it  with 
a  suburb  on  the  opposite  shore.  Immediately  behind 
the  town  rises  a  great  rock  three  hundred  feet  high,  on 
whose  level  summit  stand  the  ruins  of  the  splendid  castle 
of  Chinon,  where  our  King  Henry  II.  breathed  his  last, 
and  where  Charles  the  Dauphin  received  Joan  of  Arc. 
The  grand  old  castle  in  the  days  when  Rabelais  was  a 
boy  was  no  longer  a  royal  residence.  Louis  XI.  preferred 
his  manor-house  of  Plessis  les  Tours,  standing  in  its 
marshy  meadows.  Charles  VIII.  loved  the  more  commo- 
dious castle  of  Amboise.  Francis  I.  chose  to  live  at  pretty 
Chenonceaux.  But  Chinon  was  maintained  with  garrison, 
governor,  drawbridge,  and  moat,  in  all  the  discipline  of  a 
medieval  fortress.  No  doubt  the  furniture  and  tapestry 
still  remained  in  the  long  low  saloon  where  the  Wondrous 


THE    NEIGHBOURHOOD    OF    CHINON.  9 

Maid  discovered  the  prince.  The  zigzag  way  from  the 
Place  up  to  the  castle  still  echoed  with  the  iron  heels  of 
men-at-arms  who  clambered  up  or  down  ;  aud  knights 
with  banner  and  gleam  of  armour  still  rode  clattering  up 
the  steep  incline  which  led  to  the  tall  narrow  donjon. 
Splendid  traditions  of  kings  haunted  the  place  itself. 
Great  palaces  and  castles  lay  everywhere  almost  in  sight 
of  the  castle  of  Chinon.  The  twin  towers  of  Tours,  the 
castles  of  Plessis,  of  Chaumont/  Vendome,  Saumur,  Lan- 
geais,  Amboise,  Chenonceaux,  Blois,  Chambord,  lay  all 
around,  each  with  its  history  and  associations  of  royal 
names.  Besides  the  great  castles  there  were  also  the  manor- 
houses,  those  country  retreats  and  lodges  which  good 
King  Rene*  of  Anjou  loved  to  build,  what  time  the  long 
wars  came  to  an  end,  and  the  generations  which  had 
been  cooped  up  for  a  hundred  years  within  stone  walls 
came  out,  wondering,  and  grey-headed  men  learned  for 
the  first  time  the  smell  of  a  pine-wood,  or  listened  bewil- 
dered to  the  rustle  of  the  birches  by  the  shallow  Loire. 
Then  there  were  the  great  monasteries  —  the  cages  of 
the  monagaux  (monk  birds)  —  the  cathedrals  and  the 
stately  abbeys.  Notable  and  before  all  was  the  Abbey 
of  Fontevrault,  in  these  modern  days  turned  into  a  prison, 
where  monks  and  nuns  lived  together  within  one  wall, 
according  to  one  rule,  governed  by  an  abbess,  a  lady  of 
high  degree.  Or  to  the  boy  Francois,  when  he  wandered 
down  the  road  which  led  from  Chinon  to  Saumur,  what 
things  to  see,  what  things  to  remember,  what  things 
to  fire  the  imagination !  First,  vineyards  everywhere, 
save  where  the  low  marshy  meadows  by  the  river  would 
grow  nothing  but  osiers,  reeds,  tall  grass,  meadow-sweet, 
wild  rose,  hollyhock,  and  foxglove;  among  these  stood 


10  RABELAIS. 

white  birches,  rustling  poplars,  and  acacias.  Beyond 
the  meadows  ran  the  river,  broad  and  shining,  a  silent 
highway  which  bore  on  its  bosom  many  a  barge  laden 
with  wine  of  Saumur,  Bourgueil,  and  Vouvray — flat- 
bottomed  barges  with  rudders  twelve  feet  long.  All 
along  the  left  of  the  road,  where  the  low  cliff  rises  per- 
pendicular from  the  fields,  people  then,  as  now,  made 
homes  for  themselves  in  the  quarried  rock,  and  lived 
like  Horites  in  the  caves,  a  thing  of  itself  for  a  boy  to 
dream  about.  On  the  white  road  the  sunburnt  women 
drove  the  cows  and  geese ;  the  women  tended  the  vines, 
the  women  weeded  the  fields,  and  in  shady  corners  at 
noontide  the  women  sat  together,  ate  their  bread,  and 
talked.  If  they  had  their  little  ones  with  them,  perhaps 
they  talked  of  great  Gargantua,  how  he  set  up  a  stone 
at  Poitiers,  and  another — a  pierre  couverte — at  Saumur ; 
with  that  story  of  the  cathedral  bells,  and  how  he  hung 
them  round  the  neck  of  his  mare  in  sport. 

Then  the  boy  would  meet  the  children  on  his  way, 
carrying  yard-long  loaves  in  tiny  arms  :  he  would  mark 
shady  lanes  leading  straight  out  of  the  white  road  into 
impenetrable  blackness  of  what  seemed  a  deep  forest, 
but  was  only  a  clump  of  trees :  on  the  walls  by  the 
roadside  the  pink-and-white  stonecrop,  thirsty  and  dry : 
poppies  too,  instead  of  wallflowers.  Here  and  there  flat 
stretches  of  sand,  like  a  sea-shore,  when  the  Loire  was 
low :  on  the  sand  the  women  spreading  out  the  clothes 
to  dry.  Everywhere  bundles  of  fagots  tied  up  for  the 
women  to  carry  home  by  strings  of  pack-horses.  Now 
and  then  a  covered  cart,  the  home  of  a  family  with  brown 
skins  and  bright  black  eyes,  all  at  work  on  the  grass  mak- 
ing  baskets  out  of  the  osiers.    Fishing-boats  on  the  river 


EARLY    RECOLLECTIONS.  11 

with  broad  brown  sail.  Here  a  cottage  of  white  stone 
under  great  walnut-trees ;  and  here  a  village  with  its  old 
church,  and  above  the  portal  its  row  of  carven  saints. 

On  the  way,  at  the  town  of  Cand^,  Montsoreau,  or 
Saumur,  the  boy  would  find  a  tavern,  where  a  motley 
group  were  gathered  together  to  drink,  sing,  and  gascon- 
ade. There  the  burly  monk,  the  jolly  cure,  the  bailiff, 
the  clerk,  the  soldier,  the  farmer,  and  the  merchant, 
sitting  together  beneath  the  trees  in  the  shade  outside  the 
house  poured  down  the  strong  good  wine  of  the  country 
without  stint  or  measure,  and  talked  the  while.  Beside 
them,  the  boy — a  boy  with  large  eyes  and  broad  fore- 
head— stood  silent,  delighted,  listening, — he  was  a  boy 
who  was  one  day  to  make  all  immortal, — to  the  gossip 
and  stories  of  the  drinkers,  the  chattering  of  the  women, 
the  merriment  and  careless  happiness  of  the  whole. 

They  put  him  into  the  cloister  so  young,  this  poor 
boy,  that  his  memories  were  arrested  at  that  point :  he 
saw  only  what  a  child  sees,  the  outward  show,  where 
everything  is  what  it  seems  to  be :  he  had  acquired  as 
yet  none  of  that  sympathy  which  grows  up  so  easily 
in  the  minds  of  those  who  live  among  their  fellows. 
What  came  to  him  later  was  of  another  kind.  Let  us 
remember  that. 

The  things  he  saw  as  a  boy  remained  in  his  brain. 
He  fed  on  them  during  the  long  years  of  monkery. 
When,  forty  years  later,  he  began  to  write,  it  was  of 
Touraine  and  the  Tourangeaux.  He  described,  with  the 
pen  of  a  man,  what  remained  in  his  memory  from  the 
impressions  of  a  child.     This,  too,  may  be  rememberec1. 

Rabelais,  then,  belongs  to  that  part  of  France  which  is 
the  most  fertile  and  the  richest  in  the  countrv.    He  comes 


12  KABELAIS. 

from  a  land  of  plenty,  where  the  wine  is  generous  and 
abundant,  where  the  fruits  are  like  the  seeds  of  the  way- 
side grass  for  cheapness. 

And  he  was  born  in  a  country  rich  in  associations, 
especially  of  kings,  in  traditions  and  legends,  especially 
of  giants,  in  great  castles  and  cathedrals,  and  proud  of 
its  strong,  healthy,  and  well-to-do  race. 

There  were,  it  is  said,  five  sons,  Francois  being  the 
youngest.  There  were  no  daughters.  Of  the  four  elder 
brothers  we  know  nothing.  Probably  one  or  more  died 
young,  victims  to  the  close  and  unhealthy  air  of  the 
crowded  town,  and  probably  one  at  least  survived  to 
take  over  the  paternal  estate,  or  the  youngest  would  not 
have  been  sent  to  a  monastery.  The  name  of  Rabelais 
has  long  since  vanished  out  of  the  place.  In  1687, 
Bishop  Huet,  annotator  of  Rabelais,  found  an  old  woman 
of  the  name  still  living  at  Bourgueil,  a  town  ten  miles 
from  Chinon :  and  he  heard  a  tradition  in  the  city  of 
Chinon  that  the  last  male  representative  of  the  family, 
an  apothecary,  had  died  in  the  greatest  poverty. 

We  learn  little  from  Rabelais  himself  about  his  family. 
He  mentions  his  father,  and,  in  his  extravagant  fashion, 
he  sings  the  praises  of  Chinon.  He  gives  no  hint  of 
mother,  brother,  sister,  or  of  that  wide  circle  of  cousin- 
ship  and  fringe  of  early  connections  and  friendships  by 
which  men's  lives  overlap  each  other,  so  that  they  feel 
less  lonely.  This  is  the  result  of  the  convent.  So  far 
as  we  can  learn  from  his  book  Rabelais  was  alone  in  the 
world  save  for  the  scholars,  his  friends,  who  might,  at 
any  moment  of  rivalry,  become  the  scholars,  his  enemies. 
There  is  even  one  passage  in  which  he  may  be  supposed 
to    speak    in    bitterness    of    his    own    mother.      "  For 


SCHOOL.  13 

mothers,"  he  says,  "  who  cannot  bear  to  keep  their  chil- 
dren about  the  house  more  than  nine,  or,  still  oftener, 
seven  years,  by  only  putting  a  shirt  over  their  frocks 
and  cutting  off  a  little  hair  from  the  crown  of  their 
heads,  and  saying  certain  magical  and  expiatory  words, 
transform  them  into  birds"  —  meaning  that  they  get 
them  off  their  hands  as  early  as  possible,  and  put  them 
into  monasteries. 

Was  it  only  for  nine  years  that  the  little  Francois  had 
the  enjoyment  of  free  air  and  the  fields  1  One  could 
hope  it  was  for  longer.  It  seems  as  if  he  would  not 
have  remembered  so  much  after  so  short  a  space. 

They  sent  him,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  convent  at 
Seuilly,  near  his  father's  estate.  Beneath  the  shadow  of 
the  great  castle  of  Coudray-Montpensier,  the  ruins  of  the 
convent  may  still  be  seen.     Here  his  education  began. 

It  has  been  pointed  out,  and  needlessly  insisted  on, 
that  Rabelais  was  born  at  the  very  high  tide  of  the  Renais- 
sance,— that  he  was  a  child  of  that  greatly  hopeful  time 
when  the  discovery  of  a  new  world,  of  a  new  learning,  of 
new  thoughts,  opened  up  endless  vistas  of  happy  and  glad 
f orelooking.  It  is  only  true  so  far  as  dates  go.  Little,  in- 
deed, of  the  tide  of  new  learning  had  reached  in  the  last 
decade  of  the  fifteenth  century  the  remote  convent  of 
Seuilly.  Little  did  they  know,  in  the  Rue  de  la  Lamproie, 
of  Greek  scholars,  Latinists,  Humanists,  the  invention 
of  printing,  the  changes  which  were  to  come.  Rabelais 
went  as  a  boy  into  the  darkness  of  his  cell  full  of  the  old- 
world  prejudices,  ideas,  and  traditions,  and  came  out  of 
it  after  many  years  of  twilight  into  a  sunshine  which 
dazzled  him.  So  that  another  thing  to  be  remenbered 
about  this  man  is,  that  he  never  understood,  in  conse- 


14  RABELAIS. 

quence  of  his  long  cloistership,  the  proportions,  the  pos 
sibilities,  and  the  limitations  of  the  new  forces.     That 
was  why  Luther  and  Calvin,  who  seemed  angry,  with 
cause,  were  in  fact  ignorantly  impatient  with  him. 

One  would  like  to  know  more  about  this  first  school, 
what  the  hoy  learned,  whether  he  was  already  tonsured, 
with  the  "  white  shirt  over  his  frock."  We  have  abso- 
lutely no  information  about  the  length  of  time  spent  at 
Seuilly,  or  his  age  when  he  was  removed  from  Seuilly  and 
sent  to  the  convent  of  La  Baumette,  near  Angers.  This 
was  one  of  the  foundations  of  that  great  and  much  mis- 
represented prince,  Rene  of  Anjou,  who  instituted  it  in 
1464  for  the  purpose  of  providing  an  education  on  more 
liberal  and  intelligent  principles  than  those  venerable 
methods  whose  dethronement  was  so  near. 

It  was  at  La  Baumette  that  the  education  of  Rabelais 
really  commenced.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  learn  some- 
thing of  those  early  days  spent  in  the  convent  close  to 
the  walls  of  black  Angers.  The  town  is  now  larger  than 
Chinon,  still  preserving  its  ancient  narrow  streets  and 
crowded  houses.  There  is  the  castle,  an  irregular  octa- 
gon, standing  beside  the  river.  Behind  it,  on  a  hill,  is 
the  cathedral,  and,  in  those  days,  there  were,  round  all, 
the  black  walls.  There,  as  at  Chinon,  associations  of 
royalty  and  majesty  clung  about  the  place ;  but,  as  there, 
the  splendour  of  a  court  had  passed  away.  King  Rene's 
gardens,  his  menagerie,  his  fish-ponds,  his  painted  gal- 
leries, his  studios,  were  things  of  the  past,  but  still 
remembered  and  talked  about  by  men  not  yet  beyond 
middle  age. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The  boy 
knew  nothing  of  the  changes  that  were  to  come,  in  which 


LA    BAUMETTE.  15 

he  was  himself  to  play  so  great  a  part.  The  press  was  at 
work  in  Paris ;  already  Bude  was  learning  and  teaching 
Greek;  already  Lefevre  d'Etaples  was  at  work  on  his 
French  version  of  the  Bible  ;  already  the  trees  were  full- 
grown  which  were  to  furnish  the  stakes  for  martyrs; 
everywhere  was  the  restlessness  which  comes  before  great 
movements — the  timid  were  anxious,  the  daring  were 
asking  questions. 

How  did  Eabelais  get  his  enthusiasm  for  knowledge  ? 
Some  stories,  doubtless,  of  the  outer  world  penetrated  to 
La  Baumette.  Perhaps  among  the  brothers  who  taught 
were  some  who  had  caught  the  spirit  of  their  founder, 
Rene,  and  were  open  to  the  influence  of  the  time.  The 
very  sight  of  the  printed  books  may  have  been  a  stim- 
ulus ;  the  reading  of  Cicero  may  have  been  a  revelation. 

The  boy  was  in  good  company  at  the  school.  Among 
the  scholars  were  three  of  the  illustrious  Du  Bellay 
brothers — William,  afterwards  general,  ambassador,  and 
statesman,  whom  Rabelais  never  tires  of  praising;1  Jean, 
afterwards  cardinal;  and  Martin,  afterwards  bishop. 
Another  scholar  was  Geoffroy  d'Estissac,  the  son  of  a 
noble  family  of  the  Pays  d'Aunis,  who  became  in  1518 
Bishop  of  Maillezais.  These  school  friendships  were 
maintained  in  after-life,  to  the  great  profit  of  Rabelais. 

The  time  of  study  at  La  Baumette  came  at  length  to 
an  end,  and  Rabelais  had  to  make  choice — such  choice  as 

1  The  biographies  give  the  date  of  William's  birth  1491,  which 
furnishes,  as  stated  in  the  preface,  an  argument  for  those  who  place 
the  birth  of  Rabelais  ten  years  later  than  the  traditional  date.  But 
the  biographers  have  followed  Brantome.  Rabelais,  who  most  cer- 
tainly knew,  says  that  William  died  in  the  year  1543,  "  in  the  cli- 
macteric year  of  his  age  " — that  is,  at  63,  which  gives  his  birth  in 
1480. 


16  RABELAIS. 

was  in  his  power — of  a  future.  The  career  of  an  ecclesi- 
astic was  the  only  one  open  to  him.  That  had  been 
settled  without  his  consent  long  before.  In  those  days 
a  boy's  metier  was  decided  for  him  very  early  in  life. 
Indeed,  there  was  little  choice.  The  calling  of  the  father 
must  be  that  of  the  son,  unless  he  preferred  the  one  pro- 
fession— of  the  Church — which  always  remained  open. 
There  were,  to  be  sure,  melancholy  examples  of  inde- 
pendence, like  those  of  Villon  and  his  friends,  of  men 
who  refused  to  follow  in  the  beaten  track.  Mostly,  their 
bodies  were  visible  for  many  years,  hanging  on  the  gibbet 
of  Montmartre,  a  lesson  plain  for  all  to  read. 

So,  at  some  date  which  is  uncertain,  young  Rabelais 
left  the  convent  of  La  Baumette,  and  decided  to  become 
a  cordelier,  a  Franciscan  monk,  at  Fontenay-le-Comte  in 
Poitou. 

What  made  him  become  a  Franciscan,  a  member  of 
that  order  which  held  all  learning  in  suspicion,  and, 
above  all,  the  new  learning  1  The  Benedictines  honoured 
scholars;  why  did  he  not  enter  that  order?  But  the 
Grey  Friars,  fr aires  minor  es,  the  brotherhood  which  had 
grown  to  consider  ignorance  as  great  a  virtue  as  poverty, 
what  demon  led  the  youth  to  become  their  prey?  It 
was,  too,  an  unlucky  time ;  monks  were  growing  suspi- 
cious; rumours  were  afloat;  the  first  symptoms  of  the 
great  Revolt  were  already  appearing  :  with  the  new  ideas 
had  come  their  nurse  and  foster-mother,  the  study  of 
the  Greek  language.  A  scholar  was  already  looked  upon 
as  a  heretic — a  favourer  of  the  new  learning  as  one  who 
favoured  the  new  ideas. 

As  Dolet  wrote,  in  Latin  verse :  "  Should  any  dare 
to  profess  a  knowledge  of  Greek,  that  wretch  will  be 


CONVENT.  1 7 

esteemed   by  the  judgment  of   the  people  next   to    a 
heretic,  or  even  worse." 

The  battle  of  prejudice  against  learning,  always,  in 
some  form  or  other,  going  on  in  the  world,  was  just 
then  raging  with  extraordinary  violence.  On  the  one 
side  stood  the  little  band  of  Greek  and  Hebrew  scholars; 
on  the  other,  the  rest  of  mankind,  represented  and 
headed  by  the  Franciscan  monks.  Why,  asked  the  grey 
frocks,  does  a  man  wish  to  read  the  Scriptures  in  their 
original  tongue,  except  to  find  weapons  with  which  to 
attack  the  authority  of  the  Church?  Were  there  not 
plenty  of  examples  to  prove  the  fact  of  such  intention  ? 
Lefevre  d'Etaples,  for  instance,  who  translated  the  Gospels 
— most  mischievously — into  French  ;  Farel,  his  disciple ; 
Gerald  Eoussel,  Briconnet, — all  notorious  favourers  of 
the  new  opinions  ?  Was  there  not  Jean  de  Caturce  of 
Toulouse,  whom  they  had  got,  very  happily,  burned'? 
Were  there  not  Dolet,  Desperiers,  Erasmus,  Luther  the 
Antichrist,  and  even,  though  he  professed  orthodoxy  so 
loudly,  the  great  French  scholar,  Bude  himself? 

For  some  unknown  reason,  then,  Eabelais  left  Angers 
and  the  riant  country  of  Anjou  and  Touraine  for  the 
barren  heaths  and  marshy  flats  of  La  Vendee.  It  is 
possible  that  he  was  induced  to  go  there  by  his  friend 
Geoffroy  d'Estissac,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Maillezais.  In 
the  convent,  there  grew  up  in  the  mind  of  the  young 
monk  a  dangerous  ambition.  He,  too,  would  make  himself 
one  of  those  colossal  scholars  who,  like  Bude  or  Scaliger, 
knew  everything.  He,  too,  would  be  an  encyclopaedia 
of  learning.  By  him,  as  by  these  great  repositories  of 
knowledge,  nothing  in  the  shape  of  literature  or  learn- 
ing was  to  be  neglected.     They  did  not  as  yet  under- 

F.C. — VIII.  B 


18  RABELAIS. 

stand  the  art  of  special  research ;  they  would  know  and 
grasp  all,  just  as  Roger  Bacon,  Brunetto  Latini,  and  Jean 
de  Meung,  of  the  thirteenth  century,  knew  all.  Ency- 
clopaedic pretension  was  a  medieval  absurdity  ;  and  yet, 
while  it  survived,  during  the  next  two  centuries,  it  pro- 
duced astonishing  results. 

Fortunately  Rabelais  had  access  to  books — one  does 
not  know  how — and  found  one  or  two  congenial  brethren, 
who  joined  in  his  studies,  and  encouraged  him  in  the 
ardour  of  learning.  He  read  all  that  he  could  find  to 
read — Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  Arabic,  French  of  his  own 
times,  French  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries, 
the  Romance  of  the  Rose,  romances  of  chivalry,  books  of 
medicine,  botany,  astronomy,  mathematics — everything. 
His  principal  friend  and  colleague  in  study  was  one  Pierre 
Amy,  a  brother  monk.  Two  others,  named  Ardillon 
and  Finet,  participated  in  their  pursuits.  Outside  the 
convent,  and  in  the  town,  Rabelais  had  the  good  fortune 
to  become  a  friend  of  Andre  Tiraqueau,  lieutenant-general 
in  the  bailiwick  of  Fontenay-le-Comte.  Rabelais  calls  him 
"  the  good,  the  learned,  the  wise,  the  humane,  the  gallant, 
and  the  equitable  Andr£  Tiraqueau."  He  was  one  of 
the  greatest  lawyers  of  his  time,  and  a  most  voluminous 
writer.  As  he  was  also  the  father  of  a  numerous  family, 
it  was  said  that  he  presented  the  world  with  a  book  and 
a  child  every  year.  It  is  not  stated  which  was  the  more 
useful  gift.  Bouchet,  another  writer  on  jurisprudence, 
also  took  up  his  quarters  at  Fontenay  in  order  to  be 
near  his  enemy  and  friend  Tiraqueau,  with  whom  he 
kept  up  a  continual  controversy  in  Latin,  de  legibus  con- 
nubialibus.  And,  in  the  course  of  years,  his  friend  Geof- 
froy  d'Estissac  became  Bishop  of  Maillezais ;   and  when 


MONASTERY   LIFE.  19 

he  was  not  at  Liguge,  lived  in  his  chateau  of  Erncnaud, 
close  to  Fontenay-le-Comte. 

About  the  convent  life  we  know  nothing,  except  that  he 
had  these  friends,  that  he  studied,  and  that  he  proceeded 
in  regular  course  to  priest's  orders.  The  collectors  of 
idle  stories  who  formerly  wreaked  their  foolish  will  on 
the  life  of  Eabelais  crowd  these  years  with  inexpressible 
silliness.  He  was  a  mere  purposeless  buffoon,  a  "  sayei 
of  good  things,"  a  player  of  idle  practical  jokes,  this  in- 
defatigable and  continual  student.  Doubtless  Rabelais 
was  at  all  periods  of  his  life  a  cheerful  and  even  a  mirth- 
ful companion;  outside  the  walls,  with  Tiraqueau  and 
Bouchet,  he  was  able  to  lay  aside  his  books,  to  forget  the 
chanting  of  masses,  and  to  give  full  play  over  the  wine 
which  he  loved  to  the  Tourangeau  gaiety  which  was  his 
birthright.  The  unanimous  voice  of  tradition,  the  gen- 
eral love  of  his  friends,  the  ready  hospitality  which  he 
ever  received,  the  patronage  and  protection  of  men  so 
entirely  different  as  the  Cardinals  of  Guise,  Chatillon, 
and  Du  Bellay,  Guillaume  du  Bellay,  Andre  Tiraqueau, 
and  Bishop  Geoffroy  d'Estissac,  all  confirm  the  tradition 
that  he  was  an  excellent  companion  and  talker,  and  no 
doubt  a  bon  vivant.  His  latest  and  best  biographer,  M. 
Fleury,  endeavours,  by  comparison  with  other  humorists, 
to  prove  that  Eabelais  was  of  grave  character.  But  his 
comparison  does  not  hold.  All  the  writers  whom  he 
adduces — Lucian,  Cervantes,  Moliere,  Beranger,  Courier, 
— were  every  one  artists.  Rabelais  alone  pays  no  atten- 
tion to  style.  He  writes  as  he  must  have  talked ;  the 
laugh  is  in  the  page,  as  in  his  voice :  what  he  gives  the 
world  is  not  a  laboured  essay,  but  the  free  and  spontane- 
ous flow  of  his  own  ideas.    That  copious  stream  of  illus- 


20  RABELAIS. 

tration,  anecdote,  and  quotation  which  runs  throughout 
1  Pantagruel '  came  from  a  full  mind,  a  ready  tongue,  and 
a  mirthful  heart.  I,  for  one,  will  not  surrender  the 
mirthfulness  of  Rabelais. 

As  a  first  outcome  of  his  labours,  and  on  feeling  his 
own  powers  and  acquirements,  Eabelais  aspired  to  be 
considered  a  Fellow  of  that  little  college  of  scholars,  the 
members  of  which  continually  wrote  to  each  other  letters 
of  exhortation,  of  inquiry,  and  of  friendship.  Pierre  Amy 
was  already  a  correspondent  of  the  illustrious  scholar 
Bude,  with  whom  Rabelais  also  endeavoured  to  enter  into 
communication.  For  some  time  his  efforts  were  unsuc- 
cessful. At  length,  however,  he  succeeded  in  getting  a 
letter  in  a  mixture  of  Greek  and  Latin  from  the  great 
scholar.  Rabelais  had  threatened,  in  jest,  to  bring  an 
action,  pro  dolo  radio,  against  Amy,  for  pretending  to  an 
amount  of  credit  with  Bude  which  he  did  not  possess. 
Bude  replies  to  him  in  the  same  tone,  pointing  out  that 
his  pleas  will  be  void  in  law.  Then  he  becomes  serious, 
and  says,  w  You  are  astonished,  like  a  young  man  who 
doubts  nothing,  that  I  have  made  no  answer  to  your  ap- 
peal, and  you  take  fire,  thinking  yourself  despised  by  me. 
But  should  you  not  first  have  assured  yourself  that  your 
grievance  was  real  1  Should  you  not  have  learned  that 
illness  or  pressing  business  had  prevented  me  1 " 

In  fact,  Bude  was  busy  in  1520,  when  this  letter  was 
written,  in  describing  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 
After  this,  however,  he  always  names  Rabelais  in  his 
tetters  to  Amy.  "  Salute  Rabelais,  your  brother  in 
learning  and  religion,  in  my  name."  When  the  troubles 
began  with  the  ignorant  friars,  Bude"  breaks  out  into 
passionate  indignation.     "  What  news  is  this  that  has 


FREEDOM.  21 

come  to  me?  I  learn  that  you  and  Rabelais,  your 
Pylades,  in  consequence  of  your  zeal  for  the  Greek 
language,  are  vexed  and  annoyed  in  a  thousand  ways 
by  the  brothers,  sworn  enemies  of  literature  and  elegance. 
0  fatal  madness  !  We  had  already  learned  and  witnessed 
with  our  own  eyes  some  proofs  of  their  insensate  fury ; 
we  knew  that  they  had  attacked  ourselves,  as  the  chief 
of  those  who  have  been  seized  with  the  ardour  of 
Hellenism,  and  that  they  had  sworn  to  annihilate  the 
cult  of  Greek  letters  restored  some  time  since  to  the 
eternal  honour  of  our  time."  And  to  Rabelais  he  says, 
"  I  received  the  news  from  one  of  the  most  enlightened 
and  human  of  your  brethren,  that  they  had  restored  you 
your  books,  your  only  joy,  which  they  had  arbitrarily 
confiscated,  and  that  you  had  again  received  your  liberty 
and  your  former  tranquillity." 

Among  the  books  thus  seized  and  thus  restored  were 
probably  those  for  which  the  receipt  still  exists — for  an 
Aristotle,  a  Homer,  a  Cicero,  and  other  works  sold  by 
Henry  Stephen  to  Pierre  Amy  in  1519. 

There  was,  then,  a  persecution  of  some  kind.  By  th€ 
interference  of  powerful  friends — no  doubt,  Tiraqueau 
was  one — the  two  students  who  had  been  imprisoned 
and  deprived  of  their  books  were  released.  It  was  in 
1523.     In  1524  Rabelais  was  out  of  the  convent. 

We  may  pass  over  all  the  stories  which  have  been  told 
about  his  escape  from  the  convent,  and  the  tricks  by 
which  he  outraged  his  brother  monks.  These  silly  tales 
are  confuted,  if  by  nothing  else,  by  the  fact  that  all  this 
time  Rabelais,  with  limited  access  to  books,  was  pain- 
fully and  laboriously  acquiring  knowledge.  He  was, 
besides,  a  priest  and  a  preacher.     How  could  such  a  man 


22  RABELAIS. 

be  a  mere  monkey,  rejoicing  in  monkey  tricks?  We 
may,  at  the  same  time,  consider  the  story  that  he  was 
put  into  an  in  pace  cell — that  is,  immured  for  life  on 
bread  and  water — as  unworthy  of  credit.  What  seems 
perfectly  simple  and  easy  to  believe  is  that,  after  Amy 
and  Rabelais  got  back  their  books  and  their  compara- 
tive freedom,  a  great  disgust  fell  upon  both.  The  abbey 
and  the  monks;  the  constant  tolling  of  the  bell;  the 
wearisome  recurrence  of  the  services ;  the  stupid  talk  of 
the  brethren ;  the  dreadful  monotony  of  the  future ;  the 
absolute  futility  of  the  life ;  the  penances ;  the  punish- 
ments for  petty  breaches  of  discipline, — all  these  things 
became  intolerable.  They  would  bear  them  no  longer. 
One  day,  talking  over  their  troubles,  they  opened  a  Virgil 
at  random,  and  fell  upon  the  line — 

"  Heu  !  fuge  crudeles  terras,  fuge  littus  avarum  ! n 

Of  all  the  sortes  Virgiliance  which  Eabelais  has  else- 
where recorded,  this  was  the  most  sensible  and  most  to 
the  point.  They  took  the  friendly  advice,  and  they  ran 
away.  Nobody  has  ever  inquired,  so  far  as  I  know, 
whither  Amy  ran,  or  what  became  of  him.  One  hopes 
he  found  a  refuge  somewhere,  and  a  shelf  on  which  to 
place  his  Homer  and  his  Aristotle. 

Once  outside  the  convent,  Rabelais  steps  into  the  light 
of  day.  Henceforth  there  is  little  further  difficulty  about 
the  details  of  his  life.  He  was  in  1524  in  his  forty-first 
year.  He  had  been  under  monastic  discipline  for  about 
thirty  years.  He  knew  next  to  nothing  of  the  outer 
world.  Save  for  his  schoolboy  memories  of  La  Baumette, 
Angers,  and  Chinon,  he  had  seen  no  other  town  than 
Fontenay-le-Comte.     All  the  experience  which  an  ordi- 


EFFECT    OF    CONVENT.  23 

nary  man  acquires  before  five-and-twenty  he  had  yet  to 
learn.  Meantime  he  could  have  for  the  moment  but  one 
thought,  to  get  rid  of  his  grey  frock  and  that  cordelier's 
rope  with  the  three  knots,  and  to  escape  from  the  Be  Son- 
nante,  the  Island  of  Bells.  This  he  managed  by  the  help 
of  his  friend  D'Estissac,  who  obtained  permission  for  him 
to  pass  into  the  Benedictine  convent  of  Maillezais, — a 
permission  which  Eabelais  interpreted  to  mean,  authority 
to  keep  outside  a  Franciscan  convent.  But  the  rules, 
the  long  years  of  discipline,  the  multiplication  of  ser- 
vices, were  like  so  many  cruel  fetters,  the  iron  of  which 
entered  into  his  very  soul  and  made  wounds  which  never 
healed,  so  that  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he  was  fain  to  cry  out 
continually  against  the  hypocrisy,  the  unreality,  the  detest- 
able stupidity  of  monkery.  In  VBe  Sonnante,  as  we  shall 
presently  see,  there  were  nothing  but  cages  full  of  birds — 
monagaux,  monk-birds — red,  white,  grey,  black,  or  black 
and  white,  which  are  perpetually  singing.  "  Why,"  asks 
Panurge,  "do  they  sing?"  Their  guide,  iEdituus,  tells 
how  that  they  are  made  to  sing  by  the  bells  hanging 
over  their  cages.  "  Would  you  like  me,"  he  says,  "  to 
make  these  monagaux,  that  you  see  there  with  hoods  like 
bags  for  filtering  hypocras,  sing  like  so  many  wild  larks?" 
Then  he  rang  the  bell  six  times  only,  and  the  monagaux 
began  to  sing.  "  And  if,"  says  Panurge,  "  I  ring  this  bell, 
shall  I  in  the  same  way  make  those  birds  with  the  red- 
herring-coloured  plumage  sing  1 "  "  Just  the  same,"  said 
iEdituus.  Panurge  rang,  and  immediately  the  birds  ran 
together  and  began  to  sing,  but  their  voices  were  hoarse 
and  displeasing. 

Now  at  length  he  was  free.    The  '  damnable  iteration 
of  the  bells  would  call  him  no  more  from  the  quiet  of  his 


24  liABELAIS. 

cell  to  the  grunting  of  a  wearisome  and  heartless  service. 
He  could  throw  off  his  hood  and  look  round  him. 

Consider,  he  had  not  yet  lived  at  all.  He  had  had  no 
3'outh ;  the  world  was  all  fresh  to  him.  Other  men  of 
his  age  had  lived,  enjoyed,  and  were  grown  sated  with 
the  pleasures  of  life ;  this  young  fellow  of  forty  was  like 
some  girl  emerging  from  her  convent,  as  ignorant  of  men, 
save  for  some  chance  echoes  which  might  beat  upon  his 
ear  in  his  cell  at  far-off  Fontenay,  or  some  glimpses  of 
country  life  seen  in  the  streets  of  the  little  town.  Other 
men  of  forty  had  tried,  proved,  and  found  their  own 
weakness  and  their  strength.  Rabelais  was  still  untried. 
He  knew  not  as  yet  what  his  strength  was.  He  was  a 
man  of  forty  with  the  diffidence,  the  vague  aspirations, 
the  credulity,  the  hope,  and  the  confidence  of  twenty. 
Outside  a  convent,  he  felt  sure,  all  men  must  be  good. 
In  other  dress  than  grey  frock  and  three-knotted  ropes, 
all  hearts  must  be  sound. 

And  here  begins  the  happiest  time  in  his  life — the  six 
years  of  uninterrupted  freedom,  leisurely  study,  and 
enjoyment;  those  years  of  which  the  too  credulous  De 
Thou  says — "  Abandoning  every  serious  pursuit,  he  gave 
himself  up  entirely  to  a  dissolute  and  self-indulgent  life." 
They  were  spent  partly  in  the  courtly  and  cultivated 
residence  of  D'Estissac,  at  Liguge,  near  Poitiers.  Bou- 
chet,  in  a  letter  to  Rabelais,  speaks  with  pedantic  en- 
thusiasm of  the  spot  where  "  the  Naiads  sport  beside  the 
river  in  the  green  meadows,  and  beside  them  the  wood 
nymphs,  the  Dryads — and  the  mountain  nymphs,  the 
Oreades." 

Rabelais  answers  Bouchet  in  similar  strain,  saying  that 
he  writes  to  him  from  his  bed  in  his  little  room  at  Liguge 


FREEDOM.  25 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  long  he  stayed  under  the 
roof  of  the  good  bishop.  There  was  a  great  deal  for  this 
emancipated  schoolboy  of  forty  to  see  and  to  do  during 
the  next  six  years.  He  had  to  visit  his  old  friends,  the 
Du  Bellay  brothers.  It  was  very  likely  at  this  time  that 
he  collected  the  materials  for  a  history  in  Latin  of  the 
1  Ruses  de  Guerre'  of  Guillaume  du  Bellay.  He  accepted, 
according  to  tradition — but  Rathery  and  Colletet  are  silent 
on  the  subject — the  little  village  living  of  Souday,  near 
Guillaume  du  Bellay's  chateau  of  Langey,  in  Le  Perche. 
Probably  here  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Marot,  and  at 
this  time  he  qualified  himself  somehow  for  that  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  universities  of  France,  which  he  after- 
wards showed  in  ( Pantagruel.'  Marot's  acquaintance  was 
formed  before  1532,  because  a  sonnet  is  addressed  to 
Rabelais  in  a  volume  of  verses  published  by  Marot  in 
that  year.  Now,  between  1527  and  1532,  Marot  was 
either  in  Paris,  or  with  the  Queen  of  Navarre  in  the 
Duchy  of  Berry,  or  at  his  native  place  of  Cahors-en- 
Quercy.  Where  did  Rabelais  meet  him  1  It  must  have 
been  either  at  Bourges  or  in  Paris  itself,  and  there  seems 
nothing  unreasonable  in  the  supposition  that  Rabelais 
was  hearing  lectures  or  profiting  by  the  libraries  of  the 
University  of  Bourges  and  of  Paris.  The  sonnet  is  in 
Marot's  happiest  style,  imitated  from  Martial,  and  breath- 
ing that  easy  epicureanism  which,  with  a  hatred  of  clerical 
bigotry,  was  all  that  the  two  had  in  common. 


u  Could  we,  my  friend,  dispose  our  clays  at  will, 
And  catch  the  present  moment  and  its  sport , 
Could  we  live,  as  we  ought,  in  freedom  still, 
No  palace  would  we  haunt,  attend  no  court, 


26  RABELAIS. 

Would  bid  farewell  to  mansions,  nobles,  suits, 
With  all  their  splendour  and  their  blazoned  arms, 

And  find  in  cloistered  shade  the  world's  best  fruits, 
In  books  and  learned  talk  the  world's  best  charms. 

Love  should  be  there,  with  ladies  fair  and  sweet, 

And  full  content,  to  bless  our  fond  retreat." 

These  six  years,  about  which  some  writers  on  Rabelais 
find  so  much  difficulty,  seem  to  me,  therefore,  very  com- 
pletely filled  up.  His  studies  during  this  time  appear  to 
have  been  chiefly  in  the  direction  of  botany  and  medicine. 
In  1530,  being  then  in  the  forty-seventh  year  of  his  age, 
but  only  the  sixth  of  his  freedom,  the  ex-Cordelier 
resolved  on  entering  into  a  new  profession.  He,  who 
was  already  a  scholar  acknowledged  among  the  scholars 
of  his  own  country,  would  also  be  a  physician.  The 
registers  of  Montpellier  for  that  century  can  still  be  con- 
sulted to  show  that  "Franciscus  Rabelsesus,  Diocesis 
Turonensis,  solvit  die  17  Septembris  1530,  unum 
aureum."  After  this  follows  the  usual  student's  decla- 
ration of  obedience,  signed  by  himself.  There  is  no 
mention  made  of  priests'  orders,  or  of  his  Benedictine 
obligations. 

At  forty-seven,  juvenis  inter  juvenes,  he  proposed  to 
begin,  not  a  new  study,  but  the  systematic  course  of  a 
professional  student.  How  many  are  there  among  us 
who  feel  sufficient  elasticity  even  at  thirty  to  enter  upon 
a  new  study  1 

The  prescribed  course  on  which  Rabelais  thus  entered 
consisted,  for  ordinary  students,  after  a  preliminary  ex- 
amination to  show  knowledge  of  logic  and  of  philosophy, 
of  three  years'  attendance  at  lectures.  This  was  followed 
by  the  Bachelor's  degree  granted  after  examination.  Three 


MONTPELLIER.  27 

months  after  the  Bachelor's  degree,  application  conld  be 
made  for  a  licence  to  practise.  Before  this  was  conferred, 
four  theses  had  to  be  held,  two  on  each  of  two  consecu- 
tive days,  and,  eight  days  afterwards,  two  more  theses. 
The  licence  was  then  solemnly  conferred  by  the  Bishop 
or  Vicar-General,  the  candidate  being  accompanied  by 
two  professors.  The  Doctor's  degree,  called  "1'acte  de 
triomphe,"  could  only  be  obtained  by  passing  another 
and  much  more  difficult  examination,  called  the  "Tri- 
duanes,"  which  consisted  of  examinations  in  six  subjects, 
and  lasted  for  three  days.  If  the  candidate  satisfied 
two -thirds  of  the  professors,  he  was  admitted  to  the 
Doctor's  degree.  The  conferring  of  this  degree  was  con- 
ducted with  much  state  and  ceremony.  The  recipient, 
accompanied  by  his  sponsor  (an  officer  corresponding  to 
the  "  Father  of  the  College  "  at  Cambridge),  and  followed 
by  the  whole  body  of  the  university,  marched  in  proces- 
sion with  bands  of  music  to  the  church  of  St  Firmin, 
the  bells  of  which  were  set  ringing.  Here,  after  compli- 
mentary harangues  in  Latin,  the  new  doctor  received  his 
red  robe,  his  bonnet  of  black  cloth  covered  with  a  fwuppe. 
of  crimson  silk,  a  gold  ring,  and  a  gilt  belt.  He  was 
also  presented  with  a  copy  of  the  works  of  Hippocrates. 
The  ceremony  concluded  by  the  new  doctor  distributing 
sweetmeats,  gloves,  and  preserved  fruits. 

In  the  case  of  Rabelais  a  remarkable  exception  was 
made :  he  was  allowed  to  dispense  with  the  whole  under- 
graduate course,  and  received  his  Bachelor's  degree  two 
months  after  entering.  Immediately  afterwards  he  be- 
gan to  lecture  on  the  Aphorisms  of  Hippocrates  and  on 
Galen.  This  fact,  which  is  recorded  in  the  registers 
of  the  university,  proves  not  only  knowledge  but  reputa- 


28  RABELAIS. 

tion.  Other  memorials  of  Rabelais  in  the  Montpelliei 
registers  show  us  that  he  left  the  place  in  1532  and 
came  back  in  1537  to  get  his  Doctor's  degree,  and  that 
he  lectured  in  the  same  year  on  the  Prognostics  of  Hip- 
pocrates from  the  Greek,  not  the  Latin  version.  His 
name  appears  as  having  been  present  at  certain  feasts, 
at  dissections,  and  at  university  Functions.  It  is  found 
for  the  last  time  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1538. 
The  university  possesses  in  its  library  one  book  which 
belonged  to  him,  and  has  his  autograph.  The  robe 
which  is  shown  as  that  of  Rabelais  has  been,  unfor- 
tunately, renewed  twice  at  least,  in  1612  and  1720,  and 
probably  very  much  oftener.  Before  the  former  date, 
every  student  used  to  cut  off  a  piece  as  a  memorial  of 
Rabelais,  so  that,  although  each  of  those  memorials  was 
small,  the  whole  gown,  in  the  natural  course  of  things, 
gradually  disappeared. 

It  is  certain  that  this  student,  who  graduated  in  two 
months,  entered  with  spirit  and  enjoyment  into  the  life 
of  the  place.  He  recurs  to  it  in  after-years,  laughing 
over  a  farce  of  which  we  may  very  well  suppose  him  to 
have  been  the  author :  at  all  events  he  was  one  of  the 
actors.  Those  who  object  to  a  man  of  fifty  playing  low 
comedy  on  a  stage,  might  with  equal  justice  object  to 
a  man  of  forty,  one  of  the  teachers  of  the  university, 
doing  the  same  thing.  But  Rabelais  had  not  the  modern 
ideas  of  personal  dignity.  To  laugh  and  to  make  laugh 
in  due  season  was  his  delight.  Personal  dignity  in 
the  sixteenth  century  was  principally  a  matter  of  birth 
and  rank.  No  one,  for  instance,  would  have  expected 
Coligny  or  Guillaume  du  Bellay  to  act  in  a  farce. 

A  curious  parallel  to  this  degree  of  Bachelor  in  Medi 


PORTRAIT.  29 

cine  taken  by  a  priest  of  the  age  of  fifty  may  be  found  in 
the  roll  of  our  own  Royal  College  of  Physicians.  It  ap- 
pears that  the  physician  first  named  in  the  letters  patent 
constituting  the  College,  John  Chambre,  was  a  priest 
before  he  graduated  in  physic  at  Padua :  that  Linacre, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  a  physician  before  he  was  a 
priest,  and  that  he  was  ordained  at  fifty.  No  one,  on 
that  account,  has  tried  to  make  him  ten  years  younger. 
One  is  not  prepared  to  assert  that  the  same  association  of 
the  two  faculties  of  medicine  and  divinity  was  as  com- 
mon in  France  as  in  England  and  Italy,  but  it  is  clear 
that  the  practice  of  ordaining  a  physician  or  granting  a 
medical  licence  to  a  priest  was  not  unknown  in  France. 
Certain  restrictions  were  imposed  on  tonsured  physicians  : 
they  were  not  to  apply  fire  or  to  let  blood. 

There  are  several  portraits  of  Rabelais,  all  belonging  to 
this,  the  middle  period  of  life,  and  yet,  in  a  sense,  his 
youth.  One  naturally  mistrusts  them  all.  Yet  there 
is  one  effigies  which  seems  probable,  figured  in  Gordon's 
collection  of  all  that  remains  concerning  Rabelais  at 
Montpellier.  He  gives  two.  The  one  I  mean  represents 
an  oval  face,  with  square-cut  beard,  belonging  to  a  man 
of  fifty  or  so.  The  eyes  are  set  wide  apart,  the  nose  is 
broad,  the  lips  are  full,  the  forehead  is  square — the  ge- 
ometrical, not  the  analytical  forehead,  which,  as  mathe- 
maticians know,  is  high  and  narrow.  The  shoulders, 
which  seem  out  of  keeping  with  the  head,  are  narrow 
and  sloping — one  suspects  they  were  carelessly  drawn — 
but  the  face  is  such,  one  feels  certain,  as  Rabelais  might, 
must  have  had.  The  eyes  twinkle  with  humour,  the 
nostrils  are  sensitive,  the  lips  are  mobile ;  the  features 
belong  to  a  man  of  full  and  strong  nature  :  it  is  not  the 


30  RABELAIS. 

face  of  an  ascetic  or  a  dreamer ;  it  belongs  to  a  man  who 
could  never  feel  any  sympathy  with  theological  specula- 
tion, with  religious  mysticism,  or  with  unpractical  philos- 
ophy. There  is  another  so-called  portrait  in  the  Chateau 
de  Chenonceaux,  honourably  hung  between  the  heads  of 
Francis  I.  and  Charles  VIII.  It  is  also  an  oval  face, 
with  a  very  thin  beard  growing  like  a  fringe  at  the  back 
of  the  chin.  If  it  is,  which  I  am  loath  to  believe,  the 
face  of  Eabelais,  the  likeness  must  have  been  snatched 
in  an  ignoble  moment  while  the  man  was  laughing  at 
some  unsavoury  joke.  Well,  there  are  things  in  his 
book  which  cannot  be  denied.  It  may  be  a  portrait  of 
Rabelais,  though  one  prefers  to  think  it  a  study  of  a 
clown  laughing,  labelled,  by  a  painter  who  could  only 
understand  the  animal  nature  which  Rabelais  displays 
so  freely,  with  the  name  of  the  Master. 

It  was  during  his  residence  at  Montpellier  that  Rabe- 
lais, no  doubt  for  botanical  and  medicinal  reasons,  paid 
those  visits  to  the  lies  d'Hyeres,  in  virtue  of  which  he 
assumed  the  title  of  "  Caloier  des  lies  d'Hyeres,"  a  title 
which  he  takes  at  the  head  of  his  "Gargantua."  He 
speaks  of  these  islets  with  a  sort  of  affection — "  my  islands, 
the  Hyeres,  my  Stcechades."  It  was  also  during  this  resi- 
dence at  Montpellier  that  Rabelais  made  a  grand  discov- 
ery— one  which  rejoiced  his  heart  as  a  Frenchman,  a  bon 
vivanty  and  a  scholar.  He  found,  or  thought  he  found, 
in  a  small  fish  of  the  anchovy  kind,  caught  off  the  south 
shores  of  France,  the  garus,  of  which  the  celebrated 
fish -sauce,  the  garum,  was  anciently  made.  He  even 
reconstructed  this  sauce  for  himself — one  suspects  it 
must  have  been  extremely  nasty — and  sent  a  bottle  to 
his  friend  I)olet,  with  a  Latin  epigram.    Dolet  answered 


HIS    SAUCE.  31 

•with  other  Latin  verses,  in  which  he  promises  that  Marot 
shall  be  celebrated  for  this  ancient  discovery : — 

"  Now  from  our  heart 
Let  Marot's  name  resound  in  grateful  verse, 
When  this  new  flavour,  delicate  and  spiced, 
The  palate  pleases  and  the  stomach  soothes." 

It  is  impossible  to  pass  over  the  Montpellier  period 
without  reference  to  the  tradition,  which  seems  to  date 
from  the  very  age  of  Rabelais,  of  his  visit  to  the  Chan- 
cellor Duprat.  We  shall  see  presently  how  Panurge 
presents  himself  to  Pantagruel  speaking  thirteen  differ- 
ent languages.  Mutato  nomine,  the  same  story  is  told 
of  Rabelais : — 

"  Being  at  Paris,"  says  the  author  of  *  Particularitez  de  la 
Vie  de  Rabelais,'  "  and  desiring  to  see  the  Chancellor,  and 
not  being  able  to  obtain  an  interview,  Rabelais  put  on  a 
green  robe  and  grey  beard,  and  set  himself  to  walk  up  and 
down  before  the  Chancellor's  door,  which  was  on  the  Quai 
ties  Augustins,  so  that  numbers  of  people,  including  the 
servants  of  the  Chancellor,  asked  him  who  he  was  and  what 
was  his  business.  To  all  inquiries  he  replied  that  he  was  a 
calf-skinner,  and  that  those  who  wished  to  be  skinned  had 
better  make  haste  and  present  themselves. 

"  The  Chancellor,  hearing  of  this  foolery,  ordered  his 
people  to  bring  the  madman  to  him  at  the  dinner- hour. 
The  fool  being  introduced,  spoke  so  learnedly  on  the  privi- 
leges and  liberties  of  the  University  of  Montpellier  that  the 
Chancellor  placed  him  at  his  table,  made  him  take  dinner 
with  himself  and  agreed  to  respect  the  ancient  privileges." 

This  original  version  of  the  story,  which  may  be  true, 
but  which  is  most  probably  spurious,  has  been  amplified 
by  later  writers.  We  are  told  by  them  that  Rabelais,  on 
being  invited  by  the  pages  to  see  the  Chancellor,  replied, 


32  RABELAIS. 

first  in  Latin,  then  in  Greek,  Spanish,  Italian,  German, 
English,  Hebrew,  Arabic,  Chaldean,  Basque,  and  so  on, 
running  through  the  whole  known  list  of  Babel  until  ho 
came  to  French  itself ;  after  which,  the  Chancellor,  re- 
cognising the  genius  of  the  stranger,  accorded  to  him  all 
the  liberties  and  privileges  of  Montpellier.  Unfortu 
nately  for  the  story,  there  is  nothing  extant  to  prove  that 
these  liberties  were  ever  menaced. 

In  1532  Rabelais  went  to  Lyons  to  publish  his  first 
work,  '  Hippocratis  et  Galeni  libri  aliquot ' — a  book  for 
the  use  of  medical  students,  dedicated  to  his  protector 
and  patron,  Geoffroy  d'Estissac.  It  was  at  Lyons  that 
the  real  work  of  his  life  began.  From  ^November  1532 
to  February  1534  he  was  physician  at  the  Hospital  of 
Lyons.  But  in  that  age  of  encyclopaedic  scholarship  a 
man  could  not  confine  himself  to  one  science  only,  and 
Rabelais  speedily  found  himself  distracted  between  medi- 
cine and  scholarship. 

The  ancient  city  of  Lyons  was  in  the  first  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century  something  like  what  Bordeaux  had 
been  in  the  fourth  and  Edinburgh  was  in  the  eighteenth. 
It  was  a  provincial  centre  of  intellectual  life  which 
rivalled,  and  in  some  degree  outshone,  the  capital.  At 
Lyons  the  great  printer,  Gryphe,  set  up  his  workshop.  It 
was  Gryphe  who,  in  1550,  published  the  Latin  Bible, 
— an  edition  remarkable,  even  in  an  age  when  printers' 
readers  were  scholars,  for  the  fewness  of  the  errors,  as 
well  as  for  the  magnificence  of  the  type.  From  this 
press,  too,  issued  the  great  '  Commentaria  Linguae  La- 
tinse '  of  Dolet,  a  two- volume  folio  of  1800  columns  each, 
with  but  eight  errata  for  the  whole  work.  Three  hun- 
dred works,  more  than  enough  to  make  a  goodly  list  of  a 


SOCIETB    ANGELIQUE.  33 

great  English  publishing  firm  in  the  days  when  thousands 
of  books  are  published  every  year,  made  up  the  works 
bearing  the  name  of  Gryphe.  Kound  this  great  printer 
was  gathered  a  society  —  the  Societe  Angelique  —  of 
scholars  and  poets,  which  offered  the  noblest  welcome 
and  the  largest  liberality  to  a  man  of  scholarship  and  of 
advanced  opinions.  That  is  to  say,  for  a  few  years  only 
the  advanced  opinions  were  accepted;  for  there  very 
speedily  came  a  time  when  those  who  dared  to  cherish 
ideas  or  hopes  outside  the  lines  of  a  stupid  orthodoxy 
had  to  keep  them  unspoken  and  unwritten.  It  was 
during  the  very  heyday  of  the  Societe  Angelique  of 
Lyons  that  Eabelais  found  himself  in  that  city,  and  be- 
came one  of  the  Club — almost  the  earliest  literary  asso- 
ciation in  France.  It  was  among  these  men  that  he 
found  and  adopted  the  opinions  which  guided  and  ruled 
his  after-life.  What  these  were,  we  may  gather  from 
the  opinions  of  the  two  most  prominent,  Dolet  and 
Desperiers. 

The  former,  Etienne  Dolet,  was  an  unfortunate  scholar 
who  ruined  his  whole  career  at  the  early  age  of  twenty  by 
attacking  the  ecclesiastics  of  Toulouse  for  the  burning 
of  Caturce.  He  had  better  have  cut  off  his  right  baud. 
For  the  Church  waited  and  watched  for  the  opportunity, 
which  came  at  last,  when  he  could  be  handed  over  tc 
the  mercies  of  the  secular  arm.  For  seventeen  years  they 
watched  for  their  chance,  and,  when  it  came,  pounced 
upon  their  quarry  and  imprisoned  him,  tortured  him 
with  rack,  dungeon,  and  suspense,  and  finally  burned 
him.  The  one  grace  allowed  was,  that  he  should  be 
strangled  before  burning,  provided  he  would  first  say  a 
prayer  to  the  Virgin,  which  the  poor  man  naturally  con- 

F.C. — VIIL  C 


34  RABELAIS. 

sented  to  do.  That  was  not,  however,  until  much  later. 
In  1532  Dolet  was  working  at  his  great  book,  and  read- 
ing for  Gryphe,  being  then  only  about  twenty-three  years 
of  age,  and  twenty-seven  years  younger  than  Rabelais. 
It  is  presumed  that  his  religious  opinions  were  already 
fixed.  They  were  those  of  the  scholars.  It  cannot  be 
too  strongly  insisted  upon  that  the  scholars  of  France  at 
this  time,  like  those  of  Italy  two  generations  before,  and 
most  of  their  Italian  contemporaries,  entertained  a  sub- 
lime contempt,  until  they  found  themselves  at  the  point 
of  death,  for  Christianity.  The  Christian  religion,  to 
them,  meant  nothing  more  than  the  Roman  ritual  and 
the  Roman  discipline.  When  they  speak  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  they  do  not  mean  the  immortality  in 
which  the  Christian  trusts ;  when  they  speak,  as  they 
often  do,1  of  the  senseless  rest  of  death,  they  need  not 
necessarily  be  assumed  to  be  atheists.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  they  were  not  atheists  at  all.  They  were  haunted 
and  possessed  by  the  vague  religious  belief  which  is 
expounded  in  the  first  book  of  the  '  Tusculan  Disputa- 
tions.' The  teaching  of  Cicero  filled  them  with  a  con- 
solation, a  hope,  and  a  distinction.  They,  the  scholars, 
would  not  be  confounded  with  the  vulgar  herd ;  they 
would  mount  upwards,  and  from  some  serene  height 
shun  the  turmoil  of  the  world.  They  would  watch  the 
progress  of  things,  and  be  for  ever  occupied  in  learning 
more  and  more  of  the  divine  order.  The  scientific  men, 
among  whom  was  Rabelais,  looked  upon  Nature,  and 

1  Thus  Dolet  writes  :— 

"  Vivens  vidensque  gloria  mea  frui 
Volo:  nihil  juvat  mortuum 
Quod  vel  diserte  scripserit  vel  focerty 
Ap;moae." 


DESPERIERS.  35 

worshipped  Him  who  created  this  vast  and  wonderful 
cosmos.  The  scholars,  among  whom  was  Dolet,  took 
greater  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  they  might  for  ever 
float  invisible  in  the  pure  regions  of  the  upper  airs, 
superintend  and  study  the  ways  of  men,  and  mark  the 
slow  progress  towards  the  Highest  Culture. 

Dolet  is  the  representative  man  of  the  Societe  AngS- 
lique.  He  was  its  greatest  scholar,  the  bravest  of  its 
speakers,  and  the  most  unfortunate,  unless  we  may  ex- 
cept his  friend,  Bonaventure  Desperiers. 

Desperiers,  one  of  the  secretaries  of  [Margaret,  the  sis- 
ter of  Francis  I.,  was  a  scholar  of  a  lower  order,  no 
mean  poet,  but  a  raconteur  of  the  very  first  rank.  His 
stories,  written  for  the  amusement  of  the  little  Bearnese 
Court,  are  told  with  extraordinary  verve  and  dexterity. 
Unfortunately  he  carried  the  Protestant  tendencies  of 
his  mistress  far  beyond  the  limits  assigned  by  her  piety 
and  good  sense.  The  soft  and  limpid  atmosphere  of 
pure  thought,  the  rapt  mysticism,  in  which  his  gentle 
patron  sat,  became  insufferable  to  him,  and  he  quitted  her 
service,  or  was  made  to  leave  it,  while  he  had  not  yet 
committed  himself  to  the  opiuions  which,  no  doubt,  were 
already  lying  in  his  heart.  But  when  he  published  his 
1  Cymbalum  Mundi ' —  a  book  which  scoffs  openly  at  Pro- 
testant and  Roman  alike,  which  derides  those  who  pray 
or  look  for  any  answer  to  then  prayers,  which  under  the 
thinnest  veil  laughs  at  faith,  hope,  creed,  and  dogma — he 
cut  off  from  himself  every  friend,  every  avenue  of  refuge. 
There  came  a  moment  when  he  realised  that  there  was 
left  to  him  no  protector,  no  asylum,  no  means  of  living, 
no  mode  of  escape  from  his  enemies ;  there  were  thou- 
sands who  longed  to  burn  him;  the  last  meal  which 


36  RABELAIS. 

could  be  paid  for  was  eaten  ;  the  last  appeal  for  help  had 
been  rejected ;  and  poor  Desperiers,  despairing,  fell  upon 
his  sword,  and  so  died. 

Rabelais  divided  his  time  between  his  hospital  work 
and  this  circle  of  scholars  and  poets.  He  acted  as  reader 
to  many  of  the  publications  of  Gryphe,  and  he  edited 
two  works,  the  Latin  letters  of  Mainardi,  and  a  couple 
of  Latin  forgeries,  which  he  proudly  called  "  ex  reliquiis 
veneranda?  antiquitatis,"  consisting  of  a  pretended  will 
and  a  contract.  It  was,  some  suppose,  in  consequence  of 
his  inability  to  detect  this  forgery  that  Eabelais  resolved 
to  publish  no  more  serious  works.  No  doubt  he  must 
have  been  mortified  at  a  failure  which  reflected  on  his 
learning.  But  as  he  did  subsequently  publish  learned 
and  serious  works,  the  theory  is  untenable.  We  must  seek 
elsewhere  for  the  cause  of  '  Gargantua  and  Pantagruel.' 

The  popular  literature  of  the  day  dealt  largely  in 
knights,  deeds  of  prowess,  giants,  and  wonders.  The 
1  Histoire  des  Quatre  Fils  Aynion,' '  Valentine  and  Orson,' 
the  exploits  of  Fierabras,  the  tale  of  Melusine,  the  story 
of  Merlin  and  of  Huon  de  Bourdeaux,  were  among  the 
more  popular  of  the  cheap  books  issued  to  meet  the  vul- 
gar taste.  Rabelais,  probably  with  no  view  of  making  a 
reputation  for  himself,  but  in  simple  gaiety  and  careless- 
ness, set  himself  to  burlesquing  the  chivalrous  romances. 
He  would  have  a  hero  who  should  be  as  valiant  as  Fiera- 
bras, as  invincible  as  Huon,  as  adventurous  as  the  Four 
Sons.  "We  may  be  very  certain  that  with  his  common- 
sense  he  had  already  perfectly  ascertained  his  own  posi- 
tion as  a  scholar.  This  was  respectable.  He  did  not 
stand  in  the  first  front  with  Scaliger,  but  he  had  some 
reputation.     On  the  other  hand,  as  a  botanist,  a  physi- 


LITERARY    WORK.  37 

cian,  an  anatomist,  and  a  lecturer,  his  name  was  great, 
and  was  growing;  greater.  He  had  no  reason  to  be  dis- 
appointed.  He  had  not  failed.  It  was  therefore,  I  be- 
lieve, in  pure  fun  and  light-heartedness  that  he  began 
the  famous  series,  on  the  strength  of  which  he  lives  to 
after-ages. 

It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  examine  into  the  argument3 
and  contradictors  statements  out  of  which  the  conclusion 
seems  clear  that  the  first  publication  in  the  style  of  rSeii 
houifon  bv  Rabelais  was  "'The  great  and  inestimable  Chro- 
nicies  of  the  g?and  and  enormous  Giant  Gargantua.'  This 
simple  piece  of  absurdity,  hastily  written,  but  enormously 
popular,  prepared  the  way  for  the  ''Pantagruel,'  now  the 
second  book  of  the  whole.  The  '  Chronicles '  mav  be 
read  in  the  edition  published  by  Paul  Lacroix.  Their 
success  induced  the  anonymous  author  to  publish  a 
sequel ;  but  here  he  changed  his  plan.  He  was  no  longer 
writing  mere  burlesque  :  serious  ideas  are  set  forth  side 
by  side  with  overwhelming  nonsense,  and  the  reader  steps 
from  the  realms  of  unbridled  fancy  to  grave  and  wise 
criticism  of  things  and  men.  Then,  in  order  to  make 
Gargantua  worthy  of  Pantagruel,  the  father  of  the  son, 
Rabelais  rewrote  his  Chronicles  altogether,  and  made  a 
new  First  Book,  which  is  wiser,  more  carefully  written, 
more  full  of  wisdom,  than  the  second.  Both  were  pub- 
lished under  the  anagram  of  Alcofribas  Xasier. 

In  the  same  year,  1532,  Rabelais  produced  his  '  Pan- 
tagTueline  Prognostication,'  and  an  almanac  for  1533. 
He  kept  up  the  almanac  for  every  year  until  1550,  but- 
they  are  now  all  lost  with,  the  exception  of  a  few  frag- 
ments. In  one  of  them  he  dissuades  his  readers  from 
believing  in  prognostics.     "  If  good  time  comes,  it  will 


38  KABELAIS. 

not  be  by  promise  of  the  stars ;  if  peace,  it  will  not  be 
for  want  of  inclination  among  princes  to  make  war,  but 
for  want  of  occasion.  I  say,  for  my  own  part,  that  if 
kings,  princes,  and  Christian  republics  observe  the  Word 
of  God,  and  govern  themselves  and  their  subjects  by  this 
Word,  we  shall  never  have  seen  a  year  more  salubrious  for 
the  body,  more  peaceful  for  the  soul,  more  fertile  in  good 
than  that  which  is  about  to  commence,  and  we  shall  see 
the  face  of  heaven,  the  virtue  of  the  earth,  the  bearing 
of  the  people  joyous,  gay,  pleasant,  and  benign,  beyond 
what  we  have  seen  for  fifty  years." 

As  for  the  '  Prognostication,'  it  is  full  of  mirth,  wis- 
dom, and  predictions  which  are  either  safe,  such  as  that 
there  will  be  a  harvest  in  autumn,  and  so  forth,  or  else 
mad  with  pure  merriment  and  gaiety,  as  when  he  pro- 
phesies a  happy  year  for  France. 

"  The  noble  realm  of  France  shall  prosper  and  triumph 
this  year  in  all  manner  of  pleasures  and  delights,  so  that 
foreign  nations  will  willingly  repair  hither.  Little  banquets, 
little  merry-makings,  and  a  thousand  joyous  things,  will  take 
place,  in  which  every  one  will  find  pleasure.  Never  did  you 
see  so  much  wine,  nor  more  dainty.  Plenty  of  radishes  in 
Limousin,  plenty  of  chestnuts  in  Perigord  and  Dauphine, 
plenty  of  olives  in  Languedoc,  plenty  of  sand  at  Olonne, 
plenty  of  fish  in  the  sea,  plenty  of  stars  in  the  sky,  plenty  of 
salt  at  Brouage,  abundance  of  grain,  vegetables,  fruits,  garden 
produce,  butter,  and  milk.  Nowhere  any  pestilence,  any 
war,  any  grief,  any  poverty,  any  care,  any  melancholy.  And 
those  old  double  ducats,  rose-nobles,  angels,  and  royals, 
shall  come  back  unto  me  with  plenty  of  sequins  and  golden 
crowns." 

It  was  not,  as  it  turned  out,  a  particularly  happy  year, 
especially  for  those  who  were  burned  for  heresy. 


MISSION    TO    ROME.  39 

In  1533  Rabelais  accompanied  his  patron  and  old 
friend,  Cardinal  du  Bellay,  proceeding  on  a  special  mis- 
sion to  Eome  with  the  desire  of  obtaining  for  Henry  VIII., 
whose  cause  was  taken  up  by  Francis  I.,  his  divorce  from 
Catharine  of  Aragon.  Rabelais  promised  himself  great 
things  during  this  expedition.  He  would  visit  all  the 
scholars  in  whatever  Italian  towns  they  passed  through  ; 
he  would  search  for  plants  not  known  in  France;  he 
would  make  archaeological  discoveries ;  and  he  would 
make  a  map  with  plans  and  drawings  to  illustrate  the 
topography  of  Rome.  What  he  did  amounted  to  very 
little.  They  passed  too  rapidly  through  the  towns ;  he 
discovered  no  new  plants ;  he  dug  in  a  vineyard  which 
his  patron  bought  for  him  and  found  nothing ;  and  he 
learned  that  what  he  proposed  to  do  for  the  topography 
of  Rome  had  already  been  done  by  an  Italian,  Marliani. 
In  1534,  after  the  failure  of  Du  Bellay 's  mission,  he 
came  back  to  Lyons  with  Marliani's  book  in  his  hand, 
and  nothing  more  to  show  for  his  journey.  This,  how- 
ever, he  published  with  notes  of  his  own,  dedicated  to 
Du  Bellay. 

There  was  probably  a  special  reason  why  he  wished  to 
return  to  Lyons  in  1534.  This  has  been  discovered  in  a 
book  of  manuscript  verse  found  in  the  library  of  Tou- 
louse. Among  them  are  two  Latin  poems  on  the  death 
of  Theodule,  infant  son  of  Francois  Rabelais. 

"  Lugdunum  patria  et  pater  est  Rabelaesus :  utrumque 
Qui  nescit,  nescit  maxima  in  orbe  duo." 

Little  Theodule,  about  whose  existence — certainly  well 
known  to  the  intimate  friends  of  Rabelais — nothing  was 
openly   said,   thus  makes  his  brief   appearance  in  the 


40  RABELAIS. 

world,  immortalised  by  a  set  of  verses  in  manuscript 
upon  a  little  illegitimate  infant,  whose  existence  would 
never  have  been  known  but  for  the  reputation  of  his 
father.  Who  was  the  mother  of  the  child?  Unless 
some  other  friend  has  celebrated  the  mistress  of  Rabelais 
as  his  child  has  been  celebrated,  in  Latin  verses  still 
lying  in  some  old  manuscript  volumes  waiting  to  be 
read,  we  shall  never  know.  Eabelais  himself  preserves 
absolute  silence  about  mistress  and  son.  On  all  other 
personal  matters  he  is  loquacious :  on  this  he  is  silent. 
There  are  no  women  in  his  romance  save  poor  Badebec, 
Queen  Entelecheia,  and  a  hag  or  two.  Why  did  he 
make  no  sign  of  what  may  have  been  the  one  tender 
chapter  in  his  life  1  He  writes  as  if  the  natural  tender- 
ness of  man  for  woman — the  sacred  respect  of  one  sex 
for  the  other — had  been  crushed  in  him  by  long  years  of 
monastic  discipline.  And  yet  the  child !  Is  it  senti- 
mental to  think  that  a  man  so  full  of  noble  thoughts,  so 
intensely  human  in  all  other  respects,  was  not  lacking  on 
this  side  as  well,  and  that  his  silence  with  regard  to  his 
mistress  was  due  to  the  reticence  of  a  heart  which  had 
known  love,  and  could  not  speak  of  this  passage  of  his 
life  in  pages  half  burlesque  1 

Or,  which  is  more  likely, — because  this  sentimental 
theory  smacks  of  the  nineteenth  century, — did  Eabelais 
keep  silence  about  this  thing  because  the  matter  would 
have  given  an  additional  handle  to  his  enemies  1 

New  editions  of  the  '  Gargantua '  and  *  Pantagruel ' 
appeared  in  1535.     In  the  following  year  Eabelais  agaiu 
went  to  Eome,  on  the  invitation  of  Cardinal  du  Bellay 
A  series  of  letters  written  by  him  to  his  old  friend  the 
Bishop  of  Maillezais  have  fortunately  been  preserved. 


ABSOLUTION.  41 

By  the  help  of  these  we  can  understand  pretty  clearly 
the  kind  of  life  he  led  there. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  necessary  to  set  himself  right 
with  the  Church,  whose  rules  he  had  been  violating  for 
some  twelve  years  unheeded.  He  therefore  addressed  to 
Pope  Paul  III.  a  petition,  in  which  he  confessed,  with 
official  penitence,  how,  having  obtained  permission  to 
pass  from  the  Franciscan  to  the  Benedictine  order,  he 
had  only  left  the  former,  and  had  been  wandering  about 
the  world  thinking  of  nothing  so  little  as  a  return  to  the 
dulness  of  a  monastery ;  how,  as  regards  his  pursuits,  he 
had  studied  medicine,  and  had  become  singularly  irreg- 
ular in  his  canonical  hours.  He  therefore  prayed  for 
absolution,  for  permission  to  go  into  any  Benedictine 
convent  which  would  receive  him,  to  hold  ecclesiastical 
offices,  and  to  practise  medicine  without  fees,  without 
the  use  of  the  knife,  and  without  fire.  The  absolution 
and  the  permission  were  granted.  Rabelais  therefore 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  Church.  But  he  did  not 
look  about  for  a  Benedictine  convent  which  would  be 
willing  to  receive  him ;  and  he  seems  to  have  thought  it 
unnecessary  to  mention  that  he  was  the  author  of  those 
very  popular  works,  'Gargantua'  and  '  Pantagruel.'  In 
the  letter  to  Geoffroy  d'Estissac,  we  learn,  besides  the 
happy  termination  of  this  important  business,  all  the 
news  of  Borne.  Babelais  collects  the  epigrams  of 
Pasquin  and  Marforio  for  his  friend ;  he  tells  him  how 
the  Turk  has  fought  the  Persian ;  how  the  Cardinal,  his 
patron,  has  interviews  with  great  men ;  how  he  is  look- 
ing about  for  curious  flowers,  plants,  and  vegetables. 
It  is  to  Rabelais  that  France  owes  the  melon,  the  arti- 
choke, and  the  carnation ;  he  sends  seeds  for  the  Bishop's 


42  RABELAIS. 

mother,  with  instructions  how  to  use  them ;  he  buys 
curiosities  for  him,  and  so  on.  It  is  to  be  remarked 
that,  outside  the  leaves  of  his  romance,  there  is  nothing 
whatever  in  Rabelais  but  what  is  grave  and  earnest. 

In  1537  he  is  found  in  Paris  assisting  at  a  dinner, 
which  is  certainly  one  of  the  earliest  of  literary  banquets. 
This  historic  feast — far  more  interesting  than  that  classic 
repast  offered  a  few  years  later  to  Jodelle,  after  the  per- 
formance of  the  first  classic  drama,  written  in  French — 
was  held  in  honour  of  the  escape  of  Dolet  from  a  charge 
of  murder  grown  out  of  a  homicide.  The  list  of  the  guests 
shows  pretty  well  the  character  of  their  opinions.  Among 
them  were  Bud£,  the  great  scholar,  who  saved  his  skin 
from  the  stake  by  never-ceasing  professions  of  orthodoxy, 
just  as  a  free-thinking  clergyman  might  be  perpetually 
signing  the  Thirty-nine  Articles;  Berauld,  the  grave, 
pious,  and  Protestant  tutor  of  the  three  great  Chatillon 
brothers,  Odet,  Gaspard  de  Coligny,  and  Francois  d'An- 
delot ;  Danes,  the  great  Hellenist ;  Toussain,  also  a  Hel- 
lenist, called  the  Living  Library ;  Salmon,  called  Macri- 
nus  (the  lean),  who  wrote  quantities  of  Latin  verses,  and 
fondly  thought  his  reputation  would  be  greater  than  that 
of  Horace ;  Nicolas  Bourbon,  tutor  of  that  incomparable 
lady,  Jeanne  d'Albret;  Voulte;  Marot;  and  Rabelais 
himself.  Why  did  no  one  preserve  a  record  of  what 
they  said  at  this  banquet,  and  so  make  it  immortal  1 

From  Paris  Rabelais  repaired  to  Montpellier,  where, 
on  May  2  2d  of  the  same  year,  he  received  his  doctor's 
degree,  and  resumed  his  lectures.  Dolet,  Macrin,  and 
Sussanneau,  himself  a  physician  and  writer  on  medical 
subjects,  wrote  Latin  verses,  in  which  the  skill  and 
learning  of  Rabelais  are  lauded  in  the  highest  terms. 


THE    THIRD    BOOK.  43 

We  may  remark  that  not  one  of  these  writers  makes 
the  slightest  allusion  to  '  Pantagruel.'  Is  it  possible 
that  his  friends  were  ignorant  of  the  identity  of  Al- 
cofribas  JNasier  with  their  learned  doctor? 

After  two  years  at  Montpellier,  Rabelais  went  back 
first  to  Lyons,  and  then  to  Paris,  where,  in  1540,  he 
entered  the  Collegiate  Chapter  of  St  Manr  des  Fosses, 
obtaining  another  permission  from  the  Pope,  with  abso- 
lution up  to  date,  to  enter  this  chapter  instead  of  a 
convent,  to  recognise  the  degree  of  Montpellier,  to  exer 
cise  everywhere  the  practice  of  medicine,  and  to  hold 
any  benefices  which  might  be  conferred  upon  him.  But 
although  he  calls  the  abbey  a  "  paradise  of  salubrity, 
amenity,  serenity,  conversation,  delights  of  all  honourable 
kinds,  agriculture  and  the  country  life,"  he  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  able  to  rest  in  it  long,  for  we  find 
him  in  1543  at  St  Symphorien,  near  Lyons  (where  he 
witnessed  the  death  of  Guillaume  du  Bellay),  at  Chinon, 
Liguge,  Angers,  and  perhaps  in  Normandy. 

During  this  period  Eabelais  was  busy  with  his  Third 
Book.  It  was  necessary  to  obtain  the  royal  sanction  for 
its  publication.  And  here  he  had  to  risk  offending  the 
prejudices  of  the  king,  whose  moods  as  regards  heresy 
were  capricious.  Three  at  least  of  the  social  circle  of 
Lyons  were  dead — Dolet,  strangled  and  burned;  Des- 
periers,  a  suicide ;  Marot,  a  half  -  starved  wanderer  in 
Piedmont.  Great  caution  was  necessary.  Eabelais  was 
fortunate  in  pleasing  the  king,  who,  before  granting 
permission,  caused  the  work  to  be  read  to  him.  The 
first  two  books  pleased  him  so  greatly  that  he  gave 
permission  for  a  new  edition  of  them,  and  for  the  publi- 
cation of  the  third.      As  regards  the  issue  of  a  new 


44  RABELAIS. 

edition,  that  was  by  no  means  advisable.  Rabelais  found 
his  safety  in  declaring  that  the  impieties  which  his  ene- 
mies saw  in  the  earlier  editions  were  due  to  the  ignorance 
or  malignity  of  printers.  Much  safer  to  let  this  general 
defence  stand  without  spoiling  it  by  a  corrected  edition. 
The  permission  was  signed  in  September  1545.  The 
Third  Book  appeared  in  1546. 

The  favour  of  the  king,  of  Margaret,  of  the  Guises, 
the  Chatillons,  the  Du  Bellays,  seemed  to  promise  firm 
and  steady  support  for  the  future.  But  in  1547  the 
king  died,  and  a  reaction  against  liberty  of  thought 
began  immediately.  A  violent  attack  was  made  on 
Rabelais.  They  even  printed  what  they  called  a  speci- 
men of  the  unpublished  Fourth  Book,  which  perhaps 
they  had  stolen,  or  perhaps  invented.  Rabelais,  by  no 
means  inclined  to  martyrdom,  hastened  to  find  safety  in 
flight.  He  got  to  Metz,  where,  in  comparative  freedom 
from  anxiety,  he  practised  medicine  and  waited.  But 
meantime  he  found  himself  in  grievous  want,  and 
wrote  to  the  Cardinal  du  Bellay  for  assistance.  The 
Cardinal  had  his  own  affairs  to  think  of;  he  had  lost 
Court  favour ;  like  his  brother  Cardinal,  Odet  de 
Chatillon,  he  was  suspected  of  liberal  tendencies ;  and, 
not  feeling  safe  in  such  a  conflagration  of  fanaticism, 
he  withdrew  to  Rome,  whither,  in  1548,  he  called  his 
old  friend.  Presently  there  occurred  the  birth  of  Henry 
the  Second's  eldest  son.  Great  rejoicings  were  held  in 
Rome  by  the  Cardinal  du  Bellay.  Rabelais  wrote  an 
account  of  the  festivities  to  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine, 
which  is  preserved  under  the  title  of  '  Sciomachie.' 
It  was  a  stroke  of  policy  instigated  by  Du  Bellay,  who 
next  year  returned  to  Paris  with  him.     The  Cardinal 


RESIGNS    HIS    LIVINGS.  45 

de  Lorraine  received  the  author  of  the  description  of 
the  fete  favourably,  and  presented  him  with  the  living 
of  Meudon. 

But  the  attacks  of  his  enemies  did  not  cease  with  the 
restoration  to  safety.  From  both  sides,  Catholic  and 
Protestant,  cries  came  that  the  book  ought  to  be  sup- 
pressed, and  its  author  burned.  Calvin  was  as  hostile 
as  the  Sorbonne.  Eabelais  in  vain  dedicated  the  Fourth 
Book  to  Odet  de  Chatillon.  In  spite  of  the  royal  per- 
mission, he  did  not  dare  to  proceed  beyond  the  eleventh 
chapter.  There  the  Book  broke  short  off.  This  was 
in  1549.  Between  two  and  three  years  passed,  Eabe- 
lais during  this  time  living  quietly  at  Meudon,  where, 
according  to  the  traditions  collected  on  the  spot  by 
Antoine  Leroy,  only  one  generation  after,  he  preached, 
catechised  the  children,  welcomed  his  friends,  and  led  an 
exemplary  life. 

Then  a  very  singular  thing  happened.  On  February 
the  19th,  1552,  a  fortnight  before  the  Parliament  al- 
lowed the  sale  of  the  book,  Eabelais  resigned  not  only 
the  living  of  Meudon,  where  he  resided,  but  also  that  of 
Jambet,  in  the  diocese  of  Le  Mans,  where  the  duties 
had  been  discharged  by  a  vicaire.  Why  did  he  resign  ? 
We  know  nothing,  and  are  therefore  perfectly  free  to 
conjecture  the  reasons  of  his  resignation.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  altogether  a  voluntary  act.  Perhaps  he  felt  that 
he  was  growing  old :  yet  there  is  no  hint  or  tradition  of 
failing  health,  and  he  was  not  yet  more  than  seventy. 
Perhaps  he  was  touched  with  a  sense  of  the  incongru- 
ity of  his  position  in  the  Church  when  considered  with 
certain  chapters  in  the  new  book.  Perhaps  he  was  ob- 
liged to  give  up  the  benefices   before   the  Parliament 


46  RABELAIS. 

would  let  the  work  be  sold.     Perhaps  he  took  a  pension 
from  each  on  retiring. 

Now,  most  certainly,  no  Parliament  at  that  tim»" 
would  have  authorised  the  sale  of  any  heretical  book  ai 
all ;  if  it  licensed  the  Fourth  Book,  it  must  have  been  as 
a  harmless  work.  We  might  just  as  well  expect  Convo- 
cation to  say  to  Bishop  Colenso,  "  Give  up  your  mitre, 
and  then  we  will  encourage  the  sale  of  your  book." 

It  is  best  to  believe  that  the  old  man,  now  that  life 
was  drawing  to  its  close,  now  that  his  friends  were  dead, 
dispersed,  and  in  exile,  discerned  at  last  the  wickedness 
of  continuing  to  say  masses,  which  were  to  him  empty 
forms,  in  the  cause  of  a  Church  which  was  full  of 
absurdities  and  corruptions.  This  seems  borne  out  by 
the  spirit  of  the  last  Book,  which  was  written,  I  believe, 
in  the  short  interval  of  a  year — all  that  was  left  him  for 
work  after  his  resignation.  The  Fifth  and  last  Book  was 
found  in  manuscript,  but  wanting  the  author's  correc- 
tions. It  is  not  certain  who  was  the  editor,  and  here  we 
need  not  inquire.  It  first  appeared  in  1562,  and  as  we 
now  have  it,  in  1564. 

His  Fourth  Book  out,  his  Fifth  Book  finished,  though 
not  yet  corrected — the  possessor  of  a  name  which  made 
priests  and  monks  writhe,  and  all  other  men  applaud ;  a 
great  physician,  a  great  botanist,  a  great  anatomist,  and 
a  great  linguist, — Eabelais  waited  for  the  end.  He  might 
reasonably  hope  now  to  die  in  his  bed.  In  fact,  amid 
the  stories  that  are  told  of  his  last  words,  the  one  thing 
certain  is  that  he  died  in  his  bed  from  natural  causes, 
not  by  the  efforts  of  the  monks.  As  for  these  stories — 
how  he  died  making  an  irreverent  pun,  how  he  said  he 
was  going  to  seek  a  grand  peut-etre,  and  so  on — we  may 


HIS    DEATH.  47 

dismiss  them.  I  should  have  been  inclined  to  believe 
that  Rabelais,  like  all  Frenchmen,  made  an  edifying  end, 
fortified  by  the  rites  of  the  Church,  but  for  a  verse  of 
,  Tahureau,  who  died  only  two  years  after  Rabelais,  and 
ought  to  have  known  the  facts  of  his  death.  The  learned 
doctor,  Rabelais,  he  says,  lies  under  this  tomb  : — 

"  Even  in  death  he  made  a  mock  of  those 
Who  at  his  death  most  mourned." 

He  died  in  Paris,  in  the  Rue  des  Jardins,  parish  of  St  Paul. 
They  buried  him  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  which  preserved  his 
name  at  least  to  1660.  As  soon  as  he  was  dead,  friends 
and  enemies  alike  began  to  weave,  invent,  and  attribute 
stories  to  him.  The  name  of  Rabelais  was  in  itself  an 
invitation  to  all  the  world  to  shoot  rubbish  over  it  until 
the  life  of  this  great  writer  became  a  string  of  silly,  old, 
and  pointless  anecdotes,  from  which  it  has  only  been 
rescued  by  the  labours  of  the  most  recent  biographers. 

The  book  was  there,  too,  for  all  sorts  of  follies  to  be 
said  and  written  about  it :  of  these  the  making  of 
"  keys "  was  perhaps  the  most  foolish.  Men  proved 
that  Pantagruel  was  Francis  the  First,  Henry  the 
Second,  Antoine  de  Bourbon,  or  anybody  else.  They 
assigned  to  every  character  a  historical  origin,  careless  of 
the  fact  that  neither  in  character  nor  in  events  was  there 
any  resemblance.  The  book,  it  is  true,  teems  with 
allusions  local,  contemporary,  and  personal.  But  Panta- 
gruel, Panurge,  and  Friar  John  had  no  more  real  exist- 
tance  than  Autolycus  or  Captain  Bobadil. 

Epitaphs,  too,  began  to  be  written  as  soon  as  the  breath 
was  out  of  his  body.  They  prove  how  great  a  place  he 
held  in  the  minds  of  his  contemporaries, 


48  RABELAIS. 

He  had  offended  the  poet  Joachim  du  Bellay,  a  natural 
eon  of  one  of  the  illustrious  brothers,  when  they  were  at 
Rome  together  with  the  Cardinal.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
guess  the  cause  of  offence.  Joachim,  a  poet  who  has  left 
a  great  deal  of  verse  which  does  not  permit  itself  to  be 
read,  and  two  or  three  poems  of  considerable  sweetness 
and  delicacy,  was  above  all,  a  pedant  and  innovator  in 
language,  and  a  writer  who  placed  form  before  every- 
thing. But  Rabelais  had  no  sympathy  with  art  of  this 
kind.  His  eminently  practical  nature  only  saw  subject 
for  ridicule  in  the  things  about  which  the  school  founded 
by  Ronsard  were  so  proud,  and  so  deeply  in  earnest. 
They  could  not  but  be  angry  with  a  man  who  held 
them  up  to  derision.  As  soon  as  the  writer  of  this 
highly  offensive  parody  was  dead,  Joachim,  like  all 
pedants  and  prigs,  a  creature  of  small  nature,  took  his 
miserable  revenge.  He  wrote  an  epistle  in  which  Rabelais 
is  made  to  confess  that  he  owned  no  God  except  sleep 
and  gluttony,  love  and  wine :  that  he  was  a  physician 
in  pretence,  his  real  business  being  to  make  men  laugh. 

Then  Ronsard  had  his  turn.  He,  as  well  as  Joachim, 
was  jealous  of  Rabelais,  and  hated  him.  Rabelais  was 
popular, — Ronsard  was  left  alone  and  forgotten ;  Rabelais 
laughed, — Ronsard  groaned  and  sneered.  Rabelais  rolled 
out  his  teaching  in  the  copious  mother-tongue,  which  Ron- 
sard was  perpetually  trying  to  alter  and  improve.  Rabe- 
lais was  loved,  Ronsard  was  neglected.  Accordingly,  lit* 
wrote  an  epitaph  "  d'un  Biberon."  "  If  anything  should 
grow  from  his  grave,  it  must  be  a  vine.  .  .  .  Never 
did  the  sun  rise  too  early  but  he  had  been  drinking  ; 
never  did  night  fall  too  late  to  see  him  drinking  still. 

.     .     The  fellow  drank  night  and  day." 


EPITAPHS.  49 

And  so,  that  there  should  be  no  mistake  about  who 
was  meant,  he  goes  on : — 

"  He  sang  Gargantua's  might  of  yore  ; 
The  mare  he  rode,  the  mace  he  bore  : 
And  great  Panurge,  and  of  the  place 
Where  dwell  the  Papimanic  race, 
And  how  they  talked  and  how  they  dressed, 
And  Friar  John  and  all  the  rest — 
The  combats,  and  the  honour  due 
To  Pantagruel's  valiant  crew.     .     .    . 
O  stranger,  when  thou  passest  here, 
With  cups,  not  tears,  salute  his  bier ; 
Erect  a  tomb  with  flagons  crowned, 
Spread  hams  and  sausages  around  ; 
Fitter  for  him  these  tributes  are 
Than  lilies  fresh  and  roses  rare." 

Baif,  more  good-naturedly,  wrote  : — 

"  O  Pluto,  Eabelais  receive, 
That  thou,  the  king  of  those  who  grieve^ 
Among  the  sad  and  weeping  crew 
Mayst  show  at  last  a  laugher  too." 

Such,  so  far  as  can  be  made  out,  was  the  life  of 
Rabelais.    We  go  on  to  consider  the  nature  and  contents 
f  his  great  work. 


f.u. — vm. 


50 


CHAPTER    IT. 

THE   GIANT    OF    TOURAINE. 

Gargantua  was  the  great  giant  whose  exploits  were  re- 
membered by  the  old  women,  and  told  to  the  children. 
Especially  was  his  memory  dear  to  the  Tourangeaux, 
the  Angevins,  and  the  Poitevins.1  Eabelais  heard  about 
him  as  he  clung  to  his  mothers  apron  at  the  low  door- 
way of  the  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Lamproie,  or  wandered 
with  her  among  the  vines  of  La  Deviniere.  The  school- 
boys of  Seuilly  knew  all  about  him ;  the  giant  was  heard 
of  at  La  Baumette ;  and  if  the  monks  at  Fontenay-le- 
Comte  listened  to  the  talk  of  the  town  children,  thev 
would  learn  how  Gargantua  once  loved  to  sit  upon  the 
ciock-tower  of  their  church  with  one  foot  on  the  spire 
of  Niort  and  the  other  on  that  of  Lucon.  Now,  as  each 
of  these  spires  was  a  good  twenty  miles  from  Fontenay, 
it  will  be  seen  that  Gargantua  was  no  common  giant. 
It  was  he,  indeed,  who  set  up  the  great  dolmen  at 
Poitiers,  and  the  'pi&rre  couverte  of  Saumur.  When  he 
scraped  the  mud  off  his  shoes  he  made  great  mounds 
and  hills,  which  are  still  standing  to  witness  if  the  story 

1  See  Recherches  sur  Gargantua  en  Poitou  avant  Rabelais.     Phi 
M.  L.  Desaivre.     Niort :  ISfiP. 


THE    GIANT    OF    TOURAINE.  5* 

lies.  You  may  find  his  boots  at  Chatillon-sur-Seine — 
they  are  now  the  Monts  Jumeaux.  His  spoon  and  hip 
clogs  are  to  be  seen  in  the  He  d'Oleron,  and  his  soup- 
tureen  is  still  shown  at  Verdes. 

He  was  a  giant  who  devoured  everything.  Once  he 
drank  at  a  ford  and  swallowed  six  bullocks,  the  cart 
laden  with  wood  which  they  were  dragging  across  the 
river,  and  the  rustic  who  drove  them.  Another  time  he 
swallowed  a  ship  loaded  with  gunpowder,  and  suffered 
in  consequence  from  a  colic,  which  could  only  be  cured 
by  blowing  up  the  powder.  He  was  a  giant  advanced 
in  years,  had  long  white  hair,  and  wore  an  immense 
beard.  Sometimes  he  carried  a  basket  on  his  back,  and 
by  throwing  out  the  contents  he  made  hills  and  mounds. 
Learned  men  and  antiquarians  have  interested  themselves 
in  Gargantua,  the  great  throat  giant.1  He  has  been  shown 
to  be  a  solar  myth,  the  Moloch  to  whom  the  Gauls  offered 
human  sacrifices,  the  Baal  whose  solstitial  fires  are  still 
lit  in  Western  Ireland  and  in  Western  France  on  the 
eve  of  St  John.  But  to  Rabelais,  who  knew  nothing 
about  the  solar  myth,  he  was  simply  the  giant  whose 
colossal  figure  had  filled  his  childish  imagination.  And 
when,  inspired  by  some  whim,  whether  of  disappointment 
or  not,  he  resolved  to  write  a  popular  book,  he  took  the 
giant  of  Touraine  for  a  peg,  and  produced,  writing  it  at 
a  single  heat,  the  l  Grandes  Chroniques  Gargantuines.' 

It  has  already  been  explained  that  the  "  Chronicles  "' 
were  subsequently  rewritten.  They  have  been  published 
by  M.  Paul  Lacroix,  together  with  a  volume  called 
'Chronicles  Admirables,'  which  is  an  imitation  of  the 
former,  with   plagiarisms  from   "  Pantagruel."     Except 

1  Compare  gargote,  gargouiik,  and  the  argot  gargue  for  bouche. 


52  RABELAIS. 

as  an  example  of  an  author's  first  and  hasty  treatment, 
the  "  Chronicles  "  do  not  repay  perusal. 

The  "  Gargantua,"  which  now  stands  as  the  First  Book 
in  the  published  works,  is  in  reality  the  Second.  The 
lubberly  schoolboy  giant  of  the  "  Chroniques "  had  in 
his  son  "Pantagruel"  a  wise,  prudent,  and  far-seeing 
king.  Pleased  with  the  humanity  of  his  hero,  Eabelais 
proceeded  to  give  him  a  more  worthy  ancestry ;  and  with 
this  object,  while  still  preserving  some  of  the  giant 
machinery,  he  substituted  for  the  '  Chroniques  Gargan- 
tuines '  the  "  Gargantua,"  certainly  the  freshest,  if  not  the 
most  vigorous  and  the  richest  in  ideas,  of  all  the  books. 
It  was  written  at  the  age,  according  to  the  usual  reck- 
oning, of  forty -nine;  but  he  had  only  been  in  the 
world  for  eight  years.  In  other  words,  he  brought 
to  bear  upon  "Gargantua"  the  learning  of  middle  age 
and  the  freshness  of  youth.  Let  it  always  be  insisted 
upon  that  Eabelais  was  ever,  so  to  speak,  an  outsider. 
The  contrasts,  the  follies,  the  confusions  of  his  most 
remarkable  and  distracted  age  were  clearly  visible  to  one 
who  had  not  grown  up  in  the  midst  of  them,  who  came 
from  the  seclusion  of  a  convent,  and  found  himself  sud- 
denly plunged  into  a  world  which  hitherto  he  knew  only 
by  hearsay. 

1  The  very  Horrific  Life  of  the  great  Gargantua,  father 
of  Pantagruel/  begins  with  a  dixain  addressed  to  his 
readers.  Eabelais's  verse  is  not  his  strong  point.  It 
concludes  with  the  often-quoted  lines — 

"  Better  is  it  to  write  of  laughter  than  of  tears, 
For  laughter  belongs  to  man." 

The  author's  prologue  follows, — a  mixture  of  learning, 


PREFACE.  53 

ostentatiously  paraded  after  the  manner  of  Rabelais,  and 
of  spontaneous  unaffected  merriment  and  mirth. 

He  addresses  himself  especially  to  the  illustrious  com- 
pany of  drinkers.  He  invites  them,  in  considering  his 
book,  to  remember  those  little  boxes,  once  in  use  among 
the  Greeks,  which  they  called  "  Sileni."  They  were 
fashioned  in  all  kinds  of  shapes — grotesque  and  fanciful, 
attractive  or  repulsive.  Yet,  within,  they  were  full  of 
precious  things — balm,  ambergris,  amomon,  musk,  civet, 
and  jewels.  Or  they  may  remember  Socrates,  likened  by 
Alcibiades  to  one  of  these  Sileni.  He  was  ugly  in  per- 
son, ridiculous  in  his  carriage,  simple  in  manners,  poor  in 
fortune,  rustic  in  apparel,  yet  always  laughing,  always 
drinking,  always  telling  stories,  "  always,"  says  Rabelais, 
"dissimulating  his  divine  wisdom."  And  under  this 
rugged  exterior  there  were  found  virtues  of  the  rarest — 
courage  invincible,  a  sobriety  without  parallel,  certain 
content,  perfect  assurance,  and  incredible  contempt  for 
all  that  men  so  much  struggle  after. 

The  author's  book,  in  the  same  way,  is  to  be  seriously 
considered.  It  is  not  the  hood  which  makes  the  monk. 
"  Did  you  ever  see  a  dog  coming  across  a  marrow-bone  ? 
If  you  have,  you  have  been  able  to  note  with  what  de- 
votion he  regards  it,  with  what  care  he  guards  it,  with 
what  fervour  he  holds  it,  with  what  affection  he  breaks 
it,  and  with  what  diligence  he  sucks  it.  ...  In 
imitation  of  the  dog  it  becomes  you  to  be  wise,  to  appre- 
ciate and  esteem  those  fair  books  of  lofty  aim,  easy  to 
follow,  hard  to  encounter.  Then  by  curious  lessons  and 
frequent  meditation,  to  break  the  bone  and  to  suck  the 


marrow." 


We  are  perfectly  justified,  therefore,  in  taking  Rab*- 


54  EABELAIS. 

lais  at  his  word,  and  expecting  to  find  a  purpose  in  his 
madness,  a  meaning  behind  the  extravagances  of  the 
surface.  It  is  proposed  in  the  following  analysis  to  sup- 
press the  extravagances  as  much  as  possible.  In  doing  so, 
the  mirthfulness  of  the  author,  it  is  true,  will  disappear. 
This  is  not  always  a  subject  of  regret ;  and  yet  Eabelais 
without  his  gaiety  is  not  the  real  Eabelais.  Above  all, 
before  all,  he  is  essentially  Vhomme  qui  rit 

As  for  the  genealogy  of  Gargantua,  that,  he  says,  appa- 
rently regarding  the  book  of  Pantagruel's  father  as  nat- 
urally following  that  of  the  son,  may  be  found  in  the 
'  Grande  Chronique  Pantagmeline.'  With  the  genealogy, 
in  an  ancient  tomb  of  bronze,  were  discovered  the  verses 
which  he  calls  the  "  Fanfreluches  Antidotees."  These 
verses  seem  to  be  pure  mystification  and  nonsense,  per- 
haps written  in  ridicule  of  the  famous  quatrains  of 
Nostradamus,  whom,  as  a  physician,  Eabelais  probably 
knew  and  certainly  respected,  but  whom,  as  a  prophet, 
he  was  bound  to  deride.  It  is  noteworthy  that  Nostra- 
damus, who  had  passed  through  the  medical  school  of 
Montpellier  with  the  highest  credit,  and  afterwards  lec- 
tured there,  was  at  this  time  practising  medicine  and 
writing  his  prophetic  quatrains  in  Provence.  He  issued, 
too,  a  prophetic  almanac,  which  no  doubt  Eabelais  had 
in  his  mind  when  he  published  his  "  Prognostication." 
It  would  be  pleasant  to  contrast  the  frank  and  mirthful 
figure  of  Eabelais  with  the  solemn  visage  of  this  sixteenth- 
century  "  Sludge  the  Medium ; "  but  it  cannot  be  done 
here. 

Gargantua  was  the  son  of  Grandgousier — "  a  ton  rail- 
lard  in  his  time,  who  loved  to  drink  neat  as  much  as 
any  man  who  then  was   in   the  world,   and  willingly 


THE    REVEL.  55 

would  eat  salt  meat "  —  and  Gargamelle,  his  wife, 
daughter  to  the  king  of  the  Parpaillos.  It  would  appear 
that  Grandgousier  was  a  Tourangeau  by  birth,  and  that 
he  lived  in  or  near  the  town  of  Chinon,  because,  on  the 
day  of  his  son's  birth,  he  had  invited  to  drink  with  him 
the  good  folk  of  Seuilly,  Cinais  Marcay,  La  Roche. 
Clermault,  Coudray-Montpensier,  and  other  places,  all 
of  which  lie  around  that  illustrious  city,  to  a  feast  of 
tripes  with  immeasurable  drink.  Then  comes  the  propos 
des  buveurs  (the  drinkers'  talk),  which  makes  up  a  whole 
chapter,  in  which  Rabelais  abandons  himself  to  the 
joviality  of  a  pen  almost  too  faithful. 

"  Then  began  flagons  to  go,  hams  to  trot,  goblets  to  fly, 
cups  to  tinkle.  Draw,  reach,  turn,  mix :  hand  it  me  with- 
out water.  So,  my  friend ;  whip  me  off  this  glass  gallantly  ; 
produce  me  your  claret,  a  weeping  glass.  A  truce  with 
thirst.  Ha !  false  fever,  wilt  thou  not  begone  ?  .  .  .  Ventre 
Saint  Quenet !  let  us  talk  of  drinking.  .  .  .  Which  was 
first,  thirst  or  drinking  ?  Thirst :  for  who  in  the  days  of 
innocence  would  have  drunk  without  thirst  ?  Drinking : 
because  privatio  prcesupponit  habitum.  .  .  .  The  stone  called 
asbestos  is  not  more  inextinguishable  than  the  thirst  of  my 
paternity.  Appetite  conies  in  eating,  said  Angeston,  but 
thirst  goes  away  in  drinking.  Remedy  against  thirst  ?  It 
is  the  exact  opposite  of  that  against  the  bite  of  a  dog.  Al- 
ways run  after  the  dog  and  he  will  never  bite  you  ;  always 
drink  before  thirst  and  it  will  never  reach  you.  .  .  .  White 
wine — pour  out  all,  pour  out :  pour  here,  pour  there — fill 
up,  my  tongue  is  peeling.  To  you,  comrade,  with  joy,  with 
joy.  La !  la !  la !  it  is  all  swallowed  up.  O  Lachryma 
Christi !  It  is  wine  de  la  Deviniere  —  it  is  divine  wine. 
O  the  lovely  white  wine  !  by  my  soul  it  is  nothing  less  than 
wine  of  taffetas  !  " 

While  they  were  thus  drinking  and  making  merry  the 


56  KABELAIS. 

child  Gargantua  was  born.  The  first  words  uttered  by 
the  infant  were  not,  like  those  of  other  children,  "  Mies, 
mies  !  mies  !  "  but  "  A  boyre  /  a  boyre  /  a  boyre  !  "  as  if 
inviting  the  whole  world  to  drink,  and  so  loud  that  he 
was  heard  by  the  whole  country  of  Beauce  and  Bibarais. 
In  this  book,  as  in  "  Pantagruel,"  we  are  with  giants, 
and  have  to  remember  the  necessities  of  the  gigantic 
nature.  Gargantua,  for  instance,  requires,  to  provide 
him  with  milk,  seventeen  thousand  nine  hundred  and 
thirteen  cows — Rabelais  ever  loves  to  be  accurate ;  the 
carriage  in  which  he  is  taken  abroad  must  be  drawn  by 
oxen ;  each  of  his  shirts  took  900  ells  of  Chatelheraut 
linen,  besides  200  for  the  gussets  :  the  rest  of  his  attire 
consumed  a  proportionate  quantity  of  stuff.  His  colours 
were  white  and  blue  ;  the  former  signifying  joy,  gladness, 
and  delight — the  latter  signifying  heaven  and  heavenly 
things.  This  mystic  meaning  of  the  colours  requires  a 
whole  chapter  to  itself  full  of  learned  reference.  As  a  baby, 
the  infant  giant  very  early  showed  remarkable  qualities. 

"  It  did  one  good  to  see  him,  for  he  was  a  fine  boy  with 
about  eight  or  ten  chins,  and  cried  very  little.  If  it  happened 
that  he  was  put  out,  angry,  vexed,  or  crossed — if  he  fretted, 
if  he  wept,  if  he  cried — if  drink  were  brought  him  he  would 
be  restored  to  temper,  and  suddenly  become  quiet  and  joy- 
ous. One  of  his  governesses  told  me  that  at  the  very  sound 
of  pints  and  flagons  he  would  fall  into  an  ecstasy,  as  if  he 
were  tasting  the  joys  of  Paradise  ;  and  upon  consideration  of 
this,  his  divine  complexion,  they  would  every  morning,  to 
cheer  him  up,  play  with  a  knife  upon  the  glasses,  on  the 
bottles  with  their  stoppers,  and  on  the  pint-pots  with  their 
lids,  at  the  sound  whereof  he  became  gay,  would  leap  for  jcy, 
and  would  rock  himself  in  the  cradle,  lolling  with  his  head, 
and  raonochordising  with  his  fingers." 


EDUCATION.  57 

We  may  pass  over  the  rest  of  Gargantua's  infancy. 
We  next  come  to  his  education,  in  which  Gargantua  is 
no  longer  a  giant,  but  an  ordinary  prince.  He  was  at 
first  intrusted  to  a  learned  doctor  called  Tubal  Holo- 
fernes,  who  spent  five  years  and  a  quarter  teaching  him 
to  say  his  A  B  C  backwards.  This  useful  branch  of 
knowledge  achieved,  the  tutor  proceeds  to  spend  thirteen 
veal's  over  Donat's  Latin  Grammar,  and  certain  collec- 
tions  of  moral  sayings  and  verses  belonging  to  the  old 
methods  of  education.  Thirty -four  years  more  were 
spent  in  these  pursuits,  after  which  Tubal  Holofernes 
fortunately  died.  Then  he  was  confided  to  one  Jobelin 
Bride,  who  pursued  the  same  methods,  by  which  the 
young  giant  grew  more  ignorant  every  day.  Grandgousier, 
in  despair  at  seeing  his  son  grow  up  so  heavy,  ignorant, 
and  loutish,  consults  his  friend  the  Viceroy  of  Papeli- 
gosse  (country  of  Laugh-at-the-Pope),  who  presents  to 
the  king  a  young  page  named  Eudemon,  the  pupil  of 
one  Ponocrates.  This  boy,  neat  and  trim  in  apparel — ■ 
Eabelais  always  lays  great  stress  on  neatness  of  dress — 
with  an  assured  bearing,  but  with  youthful  modesty, 
addresses  Gargantua,  who  all  the  time  hangs  his  head 
like  a  boor,  in  an  oration  of  pure  and  elegant  Latin. 
Grandgousier  is  so  angry  at  the  contrast  between  the  two 
boys  that  he  orders  poor  old  Jobelin  Bride  to  be 
instantly  executed, — a  sentence  commuted,  by  the  inter- 
cession of  the  viceroy,  into  the  penalty  of  taking  as  much 
drink  as  he  could  carry.  It  is  then  resolved  that  the 
boy  shall  be  placed  under  the  charge  of  Ponocrates,  and, 
with  Eudemon,  shall  travel  up  to  Paris. 

Having  been  serious  for  two  chapters,  we  go  back  to 
pure  burlesque,  and  the  exploits  of  Gargantua  the  giant 


58  RABELAIS. 

on  his  mare.  She  was  as  big  as  six  elephants ;  she  was 
brought  by  sea  in  three  carricks  and  a  brigantine. 
With  the  whisking  of  her  tail  she  laid  low  a  whole 
forest.  Mounted  on  her  back,  Gargantua  rode  to  Paris, 
and  was  received  with  great  admiration  by  the  Parisians, 
who,  says  Rabelais,  are  more  easily  drawn  together  by 
a  fiddler  or  a  mule  with  bells  than  by  an  evangelical 
preacher — a  peculiarity  which  they  still  preserve.  The 
young  giant  rewarded  their  admiration  by  carrying  away 
the  bells  of  Notre  Dame,  to  hang  round  the  neck  of  his 
mare.  To  recover  these  bells  the  Parisians  sent  their 
most  esteemed  orator,  Maitre  Janotus  de  Bragmardo, 
who  came,  like  the  Vice-Chancellor  of  Cambridge,  duly 
preceded  by  three  bedells,  and  followed  by  six  Masters 
of  Arts — Artless  Masters — "Maistres  Inerts,"  Rabelais 
calls  them.  His  oration  is  a  parody  on  the  pretensions 
of  the  old-fashioned  scholars,  the  ostentatious  parade  of 
bad  Latin,  and  the  learned  discourses  of  doctors.  The 
bells  are  restored,  and  the  orator  rewarded.  Then  we 
leave  the  realms  of  the  miraculous  and  become  human 
again.  Gargantua  ceases  to  be  a  giant,  and  Rabelais 
develops — it  is  the  best,  the  wisest,  the  most  useful  chap- 
ter of  his  book — his  theory  of  what  the  education  of  a 
prince  should  be. 

And  first,  what  it  was  before  Ponocrates,  a  scholar  of 
the  new  type,  took  Gargantua  in  hand. 

The  pupil  begins  by  getting  up  between  eight  and 
nine  o'clock — according  to  Scripture  authority,  "  Vanum 
est  vobis  ante  lucem  surgere "  ("  It  is  but  lost  labour 
that  ye  haste  to  rise  up  early  "),  Ps.  cxxvii.  2 — and,  with- 
out wasting  time  over  combing  his  hair,  sits  down  at 
once  to  an  enormous  breakfast.      This  despatched,  he 


THE    OLD    METHODS.  59 

goes  to  church,  where  he  hears  "  six-and-twenty  or  thirty 
masses."  After  the  masses,  they  bring  him  a  cartload 
of  rosaries,  with  which  he  says  as  many  paternosters  as 
sixteen  hermits  could  have  done  in  the  time.  Then 
comes  a  poor  half-hour  of  study ;  but  his  heart  is  in  the 
kitchen.  At  dinner  he  eats  as  much  as  he  can  carry, 
and  drinks  without  stint,  holding  that  the  limits  of 
drinking  are  when  the  cork  of  the  drinker's  shoes 
swells  up  half  a  foot.  Dinner  over,  they  play  cards  and 
all  sorts  of  games.  Rabelais  actually  enumerates  two 
hundred  and  seventeen.  Then  he  sleeps  for  two  hours. 
When  he  wakes,  he  says  a  few  more  paternosters,  and 
goes  to  see  rabbits  ferreted  or  caught  in  snares.  Then 
he  has  supper,  with  more  drinking  and  more  card- 
playing,  and  so  to  bed. 

This  is  such  an  education  as  the  old  regime  would  be- 
stow on  a  young  prince.  First  and  foremost  are  the 
duties  owed  to  the  Church ;  and  that  these  may  be  the 
more  deeply  impressed,  masses  and  Ave  Marias  and 
paternosters  are  multiplied.  Also,  since  the  ignorance 
of  princes  makes  the  power  of  priests,  care  is  taken  that 
no  real  knowledge  shall  be  taught.  ISTor  have  his 
teachers  even  the  sense  to  see  that  their  pupil  should 
be  drilled  in  manly  exercises.  Nothing  is  taught  at  all : 
he  is  left  to  the  brute  instincts  of  his  nature ;  he  eats, 
drinks,  gambles,  and  sleeps,  without  a  thought  of  any- 
thing noble,  or  anything  even  useful.  Now  mark  the 
contrast  when  Ponocrates  changes  all. 

Gargantua  is  now  brought  daily  into  the  company 
of  learned  men,  by  discoursing  with  whom  he  may  be 
led  to  desire  improvement  and  knowledge.  He  gets  up 
at  four  in  the  morning.     While  they  are  dressing  him 


60  RABELAIS. 

a  page  reads  aloud  a  chapter  of  Holy  Scripture ;  then 
prayer  is  offered,  and  his  master  expounds  the  meaning 
of  the  chapter  they  have  read,  and  repeats  the  lessons 
of  the  preceding  day,  after  which  his  pupil  deduces  for 
himself  conclusions  bearing  on  the  practical  conduct  of 
life.  They  then  read  for  three  hours ;  playing  at  tennis 
follows  for  as  long  as  they  like  to  play,  which  is  until 
they  are  thoroughly  well  exercised.  If  there  is  any 
spare  time  before  dinner,  they  spend  it  in  recalling 
something  of  the  morning's  study.  During  dinner  there 
is  read  some  pleasant  history  of  warlike  actions ;  after 
which  they  discourse  on  the  nature  and  properties  of  all 
that  may  be  on  the  table,  with  references  to  Athenaeus, 
Pliny,  and  other  ancient  authors,  so  that  in  a  short  time 
Gargantua  knows  as  well  as  any  physician  all  that  the 
ancients  had  said  on  these  things.  Cards  are  brought  in 
after  dinner,  not  for  gambling,  but  for  the  purpose  of 
learning  the  science  of  numbers ;  with  these  are  diagrams 
and  geometrical  figures  for  the  study  of  geometry  and 
astronomy.  Then  they  sing  part-songs,  or  play  music, 
Gargantua,  for  his  own  part,  understanding  how  to  play 
on  the  lute,  the  spinet,  the  German  flute,  the  violin, 
and  the  sackbut.  Recreation  ended,  there  follow 
three  more  hours  of  study.  Then  come  riding,  tilting, 
and  exercises  under  the  direction  of  Gymnast.  An 
amazing  description  follows,  with  all  the  exact  extrava- 
gances with  which  Rabelais  loved  to  illustrate  a  point 
and  show  his  encyclopaedic  knowledge,  of  Gargantua's 
athletic  prowess  and  powers.  Next,  they  botanise  in 
the  meadows.  At  supper,  the  lesson  read  at  dinner  is 
continued.  Then  more  singing  and  playing,  with  feats 
of  legerdemain.     Sometimes  they  spend  the  whole  even- 


THE   NEW    METHODS.  61 

ing  in  their  games;  at  other  times  they  pay  visits  to 
learned  men  or  travellers.  And  if  it  is  a  clear  full 
night  when  they  go  to  bed,  they  mount  to  the  top  of 
the  house  to  observe  the  stars  and  learn  the  courses  of 
the  planets. 

Then,  with  his  master,  Gargantua  briefly  recapitulated 
what  he  had  learned  during  the  day. 

"  When  they  prayed  unto  God  the  Creator,  adoring  Him 
and  ratifying  their  faith  towards  Him,  and  glorifying  Him 
for  His  boundless  goodness  ;  and  after  rendering  thanks  to 
Him  for  all  the  past,  they  recommended  themselves  to  the 
Divine  mercy  for  all  the  future." 

This  was  for  fair  weather ;  for  rainy  days  a  different 
course  was  followed,  for  then  they  cut  wood,  bottled 
hay,  threshed  the  corn,  practised  painting  and  sculpture, 
visited  workshops  and  factories,  went  to  hear  lectures,  to 
see  mountebanks,  jugglers,  and  quacks,  and  used  "greater 
temperance  in  eating  and  drinking." 

Sometimes,  however,  they  would  take  holiday,  and 
spend  it  at  Gentilly,  St  Cloud,  or  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
dancing,  fishing,  trapping  birds,  drinking  healths,  and 
sporting.  During  these  country  excursions  they  would 
remind  each  other  of  what  Virgil,  Hesiod,  or  Politian 
had  said  of  the  country  life. 

Observe  that  the  education  which  Rabelais  prescribes 
for  a  young  prince  embraces  every  kind  of  knowledge, 
and  every  sort  of  exercise.  No  trade  or  handicraft  is 
too  humble  for  him  to  learn  and  practise.  No  single 
moment  of  the  day  is  left  unemployed ;  no  faculty  of 
the  body  or  the  mind  is  left  untrained ;  play  is  rational, 
and  confined  within  fair  limits ;  study  is  real,  and  yet 


62  RABELAIS. 

not  excessive — six  hours  a-day  does  not  seem  too  much 
for  books ;  no  time  is  wasted  over  services,  masses,  and 
rosaries ;  all  the  religious  training  is  the  exposition  of  a 
chapter  of  the  Bible,  with  prayers ;  and  there  are  no  vain 
disputations  according  to  the  forms  of  a  barbarous  logic. 

Can  there  be,  one  reflects,  a  more  sensible,  a  more 
rational  method,  of  education?  All  is  orderly,  as  be- 
comes the  training  of  a  gentleman;  nothing  is  immo- 
derate :  and  even  the  games  are  made  to  serve  some  end 
of  education.  What  end  in  education,  we  might  ask,  is 
served  by  the  immoderately  long  hours  given  to  foot- 
ball and  cricket  ?  What  boy  in  modern  England,  where 
half  the  day  seems  given  up  to  games,  or  in  modern  Ger- 
many, where  all  the  day  seems  given  up  to  books,  is  so 
well  educated  as  the  pupil  of  Ponocrates  %  Eabelais  was 
not  only  before  his  age  in  the  sixteenth  century,  he  is 
even  before  the  age  of  the  nineteenth. 

The  education  of  Gargantua,  which  one  hopes  had 
approached  completion,  is  interrupted  by  the  war  with 
King  Picrochole. 

Like  all  great  wars,  this  sprang  from  a  very  small 
cause — nothing  more  than  a  squabble  between  certain 
cake-bakers  of  Lerne  l  and  certain  shepherds,  subjects 
of  Grandgousier.  The  Lerne  people  complain  to  their 
king  Picrochole,  who  instantly,  and  without  further 
debate  or  consideration,  commands  the  ban  and  arriere- 
ban  to  be  sounded  through  all  the  country,  that  all  his 
vassals,  of  whatever  condition,  should  come  with  what 
arms  they  have  to  the  great  Place  before  his  castle. 

1  It  is  useless  to  point  out  how  often  Rabelais  helps  himself  to 
names  of  places  that  he  knows.  Lerne  is  a  little  village  seven  miles 
from  Chin  on, 


FRIAR    JOHN.  63 

The  army  thus  hastily  summoned  is  quickly  collected, 
and  immediately  sets  out  upon  an  invasion  of  Grand- 
gousier's  territory,  all  marching  in  loose  and  undis- 
ciplined order,  pillaging,  cattle-lifting,  beating  down  the 
trees,  and  committing  every  kind  of  outrage. 

Presently  they  come  to  Seuilly,  where  the  people  were 
ill  with  the  plague,  but  where  none  of  Picrochole's  army 
took  any  hurt  — "  which  is  a  most  wonderful  case ; 
because  the  priests,  curates,  preachers,  physicians,  sur- 
geons, and  apothecaries  who  went  to  visit,  to  cure,  to 
preach  unto  and  admonish  the  sick,  were  all  dead  with 
the  infection.  Whence  comes  this  to  pass,  my  masters  % 
I  beseech  vou  to  think  of  it." 

The  town  being  pillaged,  they  proceed  to  the  abbey, 
but  find  the  gates  made  fast  against  them.  Then  the 
main  army  under  Picrochole  go  on  to  the  Ford  called  the 
Gue*  de  V^de,  leaving  seven  companies  of  foot  and  two 
hundred  lancers,  who  began  to  break  down  the  walls  of 
the  close  in  order  to  destroy  the  vines.  The  monks,  not 
knowing  what  to  do,  decide  in  meeting  of  the  chapter 
to  make  a  procession  with  prayers,  contra  hostium  in- 
sidias.  One  would  think  it  was  rather  too  late  to  pray 
against  the  enemy  when  he  was  already  tearing  and 
rooting  up  the  vines. 

"  Now  there  was  in  the  abbey  a  cloister  monk  named 
Friar  John  des  Entommeures,  young,  gallant,  frisk,  lusty, 
adroit,  bold,  venturous,  resolute,  tall,  thin,  wide-mouthed, 
long-nosed,  a  quick  despatcher  of  hours,  a  fine  hurrier  of 
masses,  and  fair  accomplisher  of  vigils ;  in  a  word,  a  true 
monk,  if  ever  there  was  since  the  monking  world  went  monk- 
ing  in  monkery  ;  for  the  rest,  a  clerk  to  the  teeth  in  matter 
of  breviary.     This  monk,  hearing  the  noise  that  the  enemies 


64  EABELAIS. 

made  in  their  vineyard,  ran  out  to  see  what  they  were 
doing  ;  and  on  perceiving  that  they  were  cutting  the  grapes, 
in  which  lay  all  their  hopes  of  next  year's  drink,  returns 
to  the  choir  of  the  church,  where  the  rest  of  the  monks, 
all  dismayed,  were  singing  —  'ini...im...pe...e...e...tum... 
turn. ..turn  in...in...in...i...mi...mi...corum.'  'Well  sung, 
indeed  ! '  he  cries.  '  Why  don't  you  sing  "  Farewell,  baskets, 
vintage-time  is  over "  %  Devil  take  me  if  they  are  not  all 
in  our  close,  cutting  away  canes  and  grapes  so  well  that  for 
the  next  four  years,  par  le  corps  de  Dieu  !  there  will  not  be 
so  much  as  a  gleaning  in  it !  Ventre  Saint  Jacques,  what 
shall  we  poor  devils  drink  all  the  while  %  Seigneur  Dieu,  da 
mihi  potum.' 

"  Then  cried  the  claustral  Prior, *  What  doth  this  drunk- 
ard here  ?  Let  him  be  haled  to  prison  !  Thus  to  trouble 
the  divine  service  ! '  '  But/  quoth  the  monk,  l  let  us  take 
care  that  the  service  of  wine  be  not  troubled.  You  yourself, 
my  lord  Prior,  love  to  drink  of  the  best ;  so  does  every  good 
man  ;  that  is  a  monkish  proverb.  But  these  responses  that 
yon  chant  here  are  out  of  season.  Listen,  all  of  you.  Those 
who  love  wine,  follow  me  !  .  .  .  Ventre  Dieu  !  the  goods 
of  the  Church  ! ' 

"  Thus  saying,  he  laid  down  his  long  gown,  and  seized  the 
staff  of  the  cross,  which  was  made  of  the  heart  of  an  apple- 
tree,  as  long  as  a  lance,  the  full  grasp  of  the  fist,  and  orna- 
mented with  Jleurs  de  lys,  nearly  effaced.  Thus  he  issued,  clad 
in  a  fair  jacket,  making  a  scarf  of  his  frock,  and  with  this  staff 
of  the  cross  fell  vigorously  upon  the  enemy,  who,  without 
order,  ensign,  trumpet,  or  drum,  were  grape-gathering  in  the 
close.  For  the  cornets  and  colour-bearers  had  laid  down 
their  standards  by  the  sides  of  the  walls  ;  the  drummers  had 
knocked  out  the  heads  of  their  drums,  in  order  to  fill  them 
with  grapes  ;  the  trumpets  were  loaded  with  bunches.  He 
charged  them  so  rudely,  without  crying  '  ware,'  that  he  over- 
threw them  like  pigs,  striking  at  random  in  the  old  fashion 
of  fence.  And  of  some  he  beat  out  the  brains  ;  of  others  he 
broke  the  arms  and  the  legs ;  of  others  he  dislocated  the 


FRIAR   JOHN'S    VICTORY.  65 

spondyles  of  the  neck  ;  of  others  he  broke  the  veins,  smash- 
ed the  nose,  poked  out  the  eyes,  clave  the  mandibles,  drove 
the  teeth  down  their  throats,  broke  their  shoulder-blades, 
and  barked  their  shins.  If  any  one  offered  to  hide  himself 
among  the  thickest  vine-branches,  he  broke  his  backbone 
and  laid  him  flat  like  a  dog.  If  any  offered  to  escape  by 
flight,  he  made  his  head  fly  in  pieces  by  the  lambdoidal 
suture.  If  any  one  climbed  into  a  tree,  thinking  thus  to  be 
in  safety,  he  impaled  him  with  his  staff.  Some  cried  on  St 
Barbe  ;  others  on  St  George  ;  and  some  on  St  Nitouche  ; 
others,  again,  on  Our  Lady  of  Cunault,  of  Laurette,  of  Lenon, 
of  Riviere.  Some  offered  vows  to  St  James  ;  some  to  Cadou- 
in ;  some  to  St  John  of  Angely  ;  some  to  St  Eutrope  of 
Saintes,  to  St  Mexme  of  Chinon,  to  St  Martin  of  Candes, 
to  St  Clouand  of  Sinais,  to  the  relics  of  Jourezay,  and  a 
thousand  other  pretty  little  saints.  Some  died  without 
speaking,  others  spoke  without  dying.  Some  cried  aloud 
*  Confession  :  confession  :  confiteor  miserere ;  in  raanus.'  So 
great  was  the  cry  of  the  wounded  that  the  prior  of  the  abbey 
came  out  with  all  his  monks.  Then,  when  they  perceived 
the  poor  people  thus  stretched  flat  among  the  vines  and 
wounded  to  death,  confessed  some  of  them.  But  while  the 
priests  amused  themselves  with  confessing,  the  little  monk- 
lings  ran  to  Brother  John,  and  asked  him  how  they  could 
aid  him.  To  which  he  replied  that  they  should  cut  the 
throats  of  those  who  were  knocked  down.  Thereupon,  leav- 
ing their  capes  under  a  trellis,  they  proceeded  to  finish  off 
and  cut  the  throats  of  them  whom  he  had  already  wounded. 
.  .  .  Thus  by  his  prowess  were  discomfited  all  those  of 
the  army  who  had  entered  into  the  close,  to  the  number  of 
13,622,  without  counting  women  and  children." 

To  be  sure,  the  enemy  had  entered  the  vineyard  with 
only  seven  companies  of  foot  and  two  hundred  lancers. 

Meantime,  Grandgousier,  now  grown  old,  and  desirous 
of  taking  his  rest,  is  dismayed  to  hear  of  the  unpro- 
voked and  wanton  invasion  of  the  territory  by  his  old 

*\0. — VIII.  E 


66  KABELAIS. 

friend  and  ally.  But  he  will  not  call  his  people  together, 
nor  try  the  chance  of  war,  until  he  has  first  tried  peace  \ 
and,  on  the  advice  of  his  council,  he  sent  his  Master  of 
Requests  to  ask  by  what  right  or  title  Picrochole  had 
thus  broken  the  peace.  At  the  same  time,  he  writes  a 
letter  to  Gargantua,  his  son,  asking  him  to  come,  at  this 
strait,  and  succour  his  people.  The  letter  of  the  old  king 
is  plain,  straightforward,  and  dignified. 

The  oration  of  the  ambassador  to  King  Picrochole  is 
an  imitation  of  Cicero's  orations,  full  of  classical  indig- 
nation and  correct  invective.  The  mission  fails.  Then 
Grandgousier,  resolved  that  there  should  be  no  possible 
charge  open  against  himself,  offered  recompense  a  hundred- 
fold for  the  attack  upon  the  cake-bakers. 

And  then  occurs  the  splendid  dream  of  universal 
conquest. 

Three  of  King  Picrochole  s  nobles,  coming  to  him 
respectfully  bareheaded,  offer  to  make  him  the  most 
fortunate,  the  most  chivalrous  prince  that  ever  reigned 
since  the  death  of  Alexander  of  Macedon. 

" '  Sire,  this  is  our  plan.  You  will  leave  here  a  small  gar- 
rison. .  .  .  You  will  divide  your  army  into  two.  You  will 
with  the  one  half  fall  upon  and  defeat  Grandgousier.  Prom 
him  you  will  get  money  in  heaps,  for  the  clown  has  plenty. 
We  say  clown,  because  a  truly  noble  prince  never  has  a 
penny.  To  look  after  the  treasury  is  the  act  of  a  clown. 
With  the  other  half  you  will  overrun  and  take  Saintonge, 
Angoumois,  and  Gascony.  You  will  seize  on  all  the  ships 
at  Bayonne,  and  coasting  along  Gallicia  and  Portugal,  will 
take  and  pillage  all  the  maritime  places.  Spain  will  yield, 
and  the  Mediterranean  will  be  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Picrocholinal  Sea.  That  passed,  Barbarossa  yields  himself 
your  slave.' 


picrocholf/s  dream.  67 

"'I  will  give  him  quarter,'  Picrochole  interrupts  with 
complacency. 

" '  Certainly,  so  that  he  be  baptised,'  say  the  counsellors. 

"  '  Then  you  will  take  by  force  the  kingdoms  of  Tunis, 
Hippos,  Algiers,  Bona,  Corona,  and,  in  short,  the  whole  o. 
Barbary.  Meantime  you  will  have  laid  your  hand  on  Ma- 
jorca, Minorca,  Sardinia,  Corsica,  and  the  other  isles  in  the 
Ligurian  and  Balearic  Seas.  Following  up  on  the  left,  you 
will  have  taken  Southern  Gaul,  Provence,  the  land  of  the 
Allobroges,  Genoa,  Florence,  Lucca,  and  then  bon  jour  to 
Rome     As  for  the  Pope,  he  is  already  dead  with  fright.' 

" '  I  shall  not  kiss  his  slipper,'  says  Picrochole  the  Con- 
queror." 

They  go  on  to  take  Italy,  Naples,  Sicily,  Malta, 
Candia,  Cyprus,  Rhodes,  and  Palestine. 

11 '  I  shall  rebuild  the  Temple  of  Solomon,'  cries  Picrochole. 

" '  Not  yet — not  yet.  Wait  a  little.  Do  not  be  too  hasty 
in  your  enterprises.  What  said  Augustus  ?  Festina  lente. 
You  have  first  to  gain  Asia  Minor,  Caria,  Lycia,  Cilicia,  Lydia, 
Phrygia,  Mysia,  and  all  the  country  to  the  Euphrates.' 

"  *  Why,5  cried  the  king,  *  we  are  all  mad  !  what  shall  we 
drink  in  these  deserts  ? ' 

" '  We  have  already  provided  for  that.  On  the  Syrian  seas 
you  will  have  9014  ships  laden  with  the  best  wine.  They 
disembark  at  Jaffa,  where  we  have  collected  220,000  camels 
and  1600  elephants,  that  you  captured  hunting  in  Lydia. 
You  have  also  the  whole  caravan  of  Mecca.  Surely  you 
have  wine  enough.' 

"  *  But,'  said  Picrochole,  '  we  did  not  drink  it  fresh.' " 

Already  the  future  is  the  past,  and  he  has  in  his 
imagination  crossed  these  thirsty  deserts. 

Meantime  the  rest  of  his  army  has  not  been  itlle. 
They  have  conquered  the  whole  of  Europe,  and  are  iievr 
at  Constantinople. 


68  RABELAIS. 

"'Let  us  go,'  cried  the  king  ;  'let  us  go  at  once  and  join 
them.  I  will  be  Emperor  of  Trebizonde.  Shall  we  not 
kill  all  these  dogs  of  Turks  and  Mohammedans  1 ' 

"'Of  course  you  will,  and  you  will  give  their  lands  to 
those  who  have  served  you  honourably.' 

" '  It  is  just,'  he  said.  '  I  give  you  Caramania,  Syria,  and 
all  Palestine.' 

" '  Ah,  sire  !  it  is  too  good  of  you.  "We  thank  you.  God 
make  you  always  prosper ! ' " 

The  drama  is  interrupted  by  an  old  soldier,  who  asks 
what  they  are  going  to  do  when  the  world  is  conquered. 
It  is,  of  course,  the  old  story.  "  We  will  then  sit  down 
and  rest,"  said  Picrochole.  "  Would  it  not  be  better  to 
rest  at  once  1 " 

Meantime  Gargantua,  a  giant  again,  is  speeding  on  his 
great  mare  to  his  father's  help.  With  him  are  his  friends, 
Gymnast,  Eudemon,  and  company.  On  the  way  Gymnast 
very  cunningly  kills  Captain  Tripet  of  the  enemy's  army ; 
Gargantua  tears  up  a  whole  tree  for  lance  and  club,  re- 
ceives cannon-balls  as  if  they  were  grape-kernels,  and 
entirely  destroys  the  castle  at  the  Ford  of  Vede,  and 
stops  up  the  river  with  dead  bodies  of  the  enemy.  Then 
he  arrives  at  his  father's  castle,  where  they  have  a  grand 
feast,  the  menu  of  which  is  preserved  for  us  by  the 
author.  An  accident,  which  might  have  been  attended 
with  serious  consequences,  befell  six  pilgrims  who  were 
unfortunately  hiding  in  the  salad,  and  wrould  have  been 
swallowed  by  Gargantua,  but  that  they  stuck  in  his 
teeth.  How  they  escaped,  what  further  misfortunes 
overtook  these  pilgrims,  and  how  they  consoled  them- 
selves, may  be  sought  in  the  original  text.  The  supper 
meanwhile  goes  on.     Friar  John  is  sent  for,  and  being 


HATRED    OF    MONKS.  69 

invited  to  sit  and  drink,  proves  himself  as  good  at  feast- 
ing, and  at  the  Rabelaisian  talk  which  accompanies  it, 
as  in  defending  vineyards.  It  is  during  these  propos  de 
table  that  Eabelais  delivers  one  of  his  most  vigorous 
attacks  on  monks. 

Why,  they  ask  Friar  John,  are  monks  avoided  by  all 
the  world  ? 

" '  If  you  understand  why  a  monkey  in  a  family  is  always 
mocked  and  worried  you  will  understand  why  monks  are 
abhorred  of  all,  both  old  and  young.  The  monkey  does  not 
watch  the  house  like  a  clog ;  he  does  not  drag  the  cart  like 
the  ox ;  he  gives  no  wool  like  the  sheep ;  he  does  not  carry 
burdens  like  the  horse.  ...  So  with  the  monk.  He 
does  not  cultivate  the  soil  like  the  peasant ;  he  does  not 
guard  the  land  like  the  soldier ;  he  does  not  heal  the  sick 
like  the  physician ;  he  does  not  teach  like  the  evangelical 
doctor  or  the  schoolmaster ;  he  does  not  import  goods  and 
necessary  things  like  the  merchant.' 

"  *  But  the  monks  pray  for  all,'  objects  Grandgousier. 

" '  Nothing  less,'  says  Gargantua.  '  They  only  annoy  the 
neighbourhood  with  ringing  their  bells. 

« t  Truly,'  says  Friar  John,  '  a  mass,  a  matin,  and  a  vesper 
well  rung  are  half  said.  They  mumble  great  store  of  legends 
and  psalms,  of  which  they  understand  nothing  ;  they  count 
plenty  of  paternosters  and  Ave  Marias  without  thinking  and 
without  understanding,  and  that  I  call  mocking  God,  and  not 
making  prayers.  But  God  help  them,  if  they  pray  for  us, 
and  not  for  fear  of  losing  their  fat  soups. 


>r> 


The  next  ten  chapters  are  occupied  in  great  part  with 
the  exploits  of  this  jolly  monk,  and  the  great  victory 
over  King  Picrochole.  Friar  John  sends  Gargantua  to 
sleep  by  reading  the  breviary,  wakes  them  all  up  in  the 
night  for  drink,  says  his  hours,  not  after  the  rules  of 
Paris  or  of  Rome,  but  that  of  Fecamp,  which  is  three 


70  RABELAIS. 

psalms  and  three  lessons,  or  nothing  at  all,  if  you  prefer ; 
prefers  his  own  rules  to  any,  because  "  the  hour  was  made 
for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  hour ; "  his  own,  indeed, 
are  like  stirrups — long  or  short,  as  you  please.  Says  the 
monk,  "  Short  prayer  reaches  heaven,  long  drinking 
empties  bottles."  Gargantua  is  sometimes  giant,  some- 
times man,  in  the  war  which  follows.  But  he  is  always 
a  wise,  humane,  and  noble  prince.  Everything  is  to  be 
paid  for ;  he  will  have  no  outrages  or  abuses  committed 
by  his  soldiers ;  and  he  freely  dismisses  all  his  prisoners 
with  a  convoy  to  take  them  to  their  homes.  One  re- 
members how,  at  this  very  time,  Coligny,  colonel  of  the 
French  infantry,  was  introducing  discipline  for  the  first 
time  among  his  rude  and  disorderly  soldiers. 

The  soldiers  rewarded,  the  prisoners  released,  and  the 
men  who  had  instigated  and  promoted  the  war  punished 
by  being  made  to  work  at  the  new  printing-press,  Gar- 
gantua proceeds  to  bestow  honours  and  substantial  gifts 
upon  his  friends.  And  for  Friar  John  he  builds  the 
Abbey  of  Thelema 


fl 


CHAPTER   in. 


THE    ABBEY    OF    THELEMA. 


The  character  of  Friar  John,  which  may  be  gathered 
from  the  story  of  his  exploits  in  the  vineyard,  makes 
him  the  very  last  man  in  the  world  to  create  the  Abbey 
of  Thelema.  Of  this,  however,  Rabelais  was  careless. 
The  abbey  had  to  be  created  somehow,  because  it  was 
in  his  mind.  The  Friar  was  ready  to  his  hand,  and  he 
confided  its  foundation  to  him,  albeit  unworthy. 

This  Abbey  of  Thelema  is  one  of  the  most  graceful  and 
most  noble  fancies  that  ever  entered  into  the  brain  of  man. 
It  forms  a  fit  pendant  to  the  scheme  of  education  which 
its  founder  drew  up  for  a  young  prince.  The  Order  of 
Thelema  is  a  society  composed  entirely  of  young  people 
living  together  in  the  freedom  of  gentlehood,  unrestricted 
by  any  conventional  and  useless  rules.  They  are  to 
learn,  by  watching  the  wishes  and  wants  of  each  other, 
how  to  live ;  they  are  to  be  occupied  all  day  in  study, 
in  manly  exercises,  or  in  the  acquirements  of  womanly 
accomplishments ;  they  are  to  be  entirely  free  from  the 
petty  cares  and  anxieties  of  the  ignoble  life ;  they  are  to 
live  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  nature,  and  are  there- 
fore to  be  exempt  from  disease.     The  abbey  itself  is  a 


72  RABELAIS. 

miracle  of  architecture.  It  is  to  be  the  house  of  the 
highest  expression  of  art,  refinement,  and  luxury.  When 
the  monks  and  sisters  have  learned  all  that  the  Society 
is  able  to  teach  they  may  leave  it,  two  by  two,  and  go 
forth  into  the  world,  examples  for  all  men  and  women 
to  follow. 

Friar  John  was  offered  the  Abbey  of  Seuilly — we  are 
still  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Chinon — which  he  refused ; 
then  that  of  St  Florent,  or  Bourgueil  —  also  close  to 
Chinon — or  both,  if  he  liked.  But  again  he  refused. 
"How,"  he  asked,  "am  I,  who  cannot  rule  myself,  to 
rule  others  1  But,"  he  adds,  "  if  you  think  I  have  done 
you,  or  may  henceforth  do  you,  good  service,  give  me 
leave  to  found  an  abbey  after  my  own  mind." 

Gargantua  thereupon  made  him  a  grant  of  land  upon 
the  river  Loire  on  which  he  might  establish  his  monas- 
tery. It  was  instituted  for  an  order  of  monks  and  nuns 
whose  rules  should  be  the  opposite  of  those  of  all  other 
orders.  Between  them,  Gargantua  and  the  excellent 
Friar  arranged  their  plan. 

First,  as  all  other  convents  are  walled  round,  this  must 
be  without  wall  of  any  kind. 

"  Moreover,  seeing  there  are  certain  convents  in  this  world 
whereof  the  custom  is,  that  if  any  women,  even  honourable 
and  modest  women,  come  in,  the  ground  is  swept  over  which 
they  have  passed,  it  was  ordained,  that  if  any  man  or  woman 
belonging  to  a  religious  order  should  by  chance  enter,  all  the 
rooms  should  be  thoroughly  cleansed  through  which  they 
had  passed.  And  because  in  the  monasteries  of  the  world 
all  is  compassed,  limited,  and  regulated  by  hours,  it  was 
decreed  that  here  there  should  be  neither  clock  nor  dial,  but 
that  according  to  opportunities  and  occasions  should  be  con- 
ducted all  their  work.    For.  said  Gargantua,  the  greatest 


RULES    OF    THE    ABBEY.  73 

loss  of  time  that  he  knew  was  to  count  the  hours.  What 
good  comes  of  it  ?  And  the  greatest  dotage  in  the  world  was 
to  govern  himself  by  the  sound  of  a  bell,  and  not  by  the  dic- 
tation of  judgment  and  common-sense. 

"Item,  Because  at  that  time  they  put  no  women  into  nun- 
neries but  such  as  were  either  purblind,  lame,  crooked,  ill- 
favoured,  misshapen,  lunatic,  senseless,  or  corrupt ;  nor  any 
men  but  those  who  were  either  sickly,  low-born,  simple, 
or  good-for-nothing  ;  therefore  was  it  ordained  that  here 
should  be  admitted  no  women  who  were  not  fair,  well- 
featured,  and  of  sweet  disposition — nor  any  men  who  were 
not  comely,  personable,  and  well-conditioned. 

"Item,  Because  in  the  convents  of  women  men  come  not  but 
privily  and  by  stealth,  it  was  enacted  that  here  there  should 
be  no  women  in  case  there  be  not  men,  nor  any  men  in  case 
there  be  no  women. 

"Item,  Because  both  men  and  women  who  are  once  received 
into  religious  orders  have  been  constrained  after  the  year  of 
probation  to  stay  in  them  all  the  days  of  their  life,  it  was 
ordered  that  all  whatever,  men  or  women,  admitted  within 
this  abbey,  should  have  full  leave  to  depart  in  peace  and  con- 
tentment, whenever  it  should  seem  good  to  them  to  do  so. 

"  Item,  That,  considering  how  religious  men  and  women  do 
ordinarily  take  the  three  vows  of  chastity,  of  poverty,  and  of 
obedience,  it  was  ordered  that  here  they  might  be  honour- 
ably married,  that  they  might  be  rich,  and  that  they  might 
live  at  liberty.  As  regards  the  legitimate  age,  the  women 
were  to  be  admitted  from  ten  till  fifteen,  and  the  men  from 
twelve  till  eighteen." 

The  preliminaries  being  agreed  upon,  the  building  was 
at  once  commenced.  In  the  description  of  the  building, 
Rabelais,  who,  like  Victor  Hugo,  never  touches  a  subject 
of  which  he  is  not  master,  has  given  so  minute  an  account 
of  a  great  and  magnificent  building,  that  architects  have 
succeeded  in  reproducing  the  plan  and  elevation  which 


74  RABELAIS. 

Eabelais  had  in  his  head.  Greater  descriptive  power  has 
never  been  shown  than  so  to  set  forth  a  building  as  to 
enable  a  draughtsman  nearly  three  hundred  and  fifty- 
years  later  to  represent  on  paper  exactly  such  a  building 
as  the  author  pictured.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  abbey 
was  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  the  greatest  luxury  and 
magnificence.  Stately  fountains,  spacious  galleries,  tilt- 
yards,  riding-courts,  theatres,  swimming-baths,  the  garden 
of  Deduit,  or  Delight,  by  the  river-side,  a  labyrinth,  tennis 
and  ball  courts,  orchards  planted  with  fruit-trees,  a  park 
full  of  deer,  butts  for  guns,  crossbow,  and  archery,  stables, 
a  falconry,  a  "  venery,"  where  beagles  and  hounds  were 
kept,  and  outside  the  abbey  rows  of  houses  in  which 
dwelt,  for  the  convenience  of  the  fraternity,  all  sorts  of 
handicraftsmen,  such  as  goldsmiths,  lapidaries,  jewellers, 
embroiderers,  tailors,  gold-drawers,  velvet-weavers,  tapes- 
try-makers, upholsterers,  and  others  who  worked  for  the 
monks  and  nuns  of  the  new  order. 

No  novelist  or  romance -writer  has  ever  conceived  a 
more  delightful  abode  than  the  Abbey  of  Thelema,  or  a 
more  splendid  and  magnificent  foundation. 

"  All  their  life  was  spent,  not  by  laws,  statutes,  or  rules,  but 
according  to  their  own  free  will  and  pleasure.  They  rose 
when  they  thought  good ;  they  ate,  drank,  worked,  slept, 
when  the  desire  came  to  them.  No  one  woke  them  up ;  none 
forced  them  to  eat,  drink,  or  to  do  any  other  thing  what- 
ever. So  had  Gargantua  established  it.  In  their  rule  there 
was  but  this  one  clause — 

FAY   CE  QUE   VOULDRAS 

(Do  what  you  will) ; 

because  men  who  are  free,  well  born,  well  bred,  and  con- 
versant with  honourable  company,  have  naturally  an  instinct 


THE    MONKS    OF    THELEMA.  75 

which  prompts  them  to  virtuous  actions  and  withdraws 
them  from  vice.  This  is  called  honour.  ...  By  this 
liberty  they  entered  into  a  laudable  emulation  to  do  all  ol 
them  what  they  saw  pleased  one.  If  one  of  them,  either  a 
monk  or  a  sister,  should  say  '  Let  us  drink/  they  would  all 
drink.  If  any  one  of  them  said  '  Let  us  play,'  they  all  played. 
If  one  said  '  Let  us  go  and  take  our  pleasure  in  the  fields/ 
they  all  went.  ...  So  nobly  they  were  taught  that  there 
was  not  one  among  them  but  could  read,  write,  sing,  play 
upon  musical  instruments,  speak  five  or  six  languages,  and 
compose  in  them  either  in  verse  or  in  measured  prose. 
Never  were  seen  knights  more  valiant,  more  gallant,  more 
dexterous  on  horse  or  foot,  more  vigorous,  more  active,  more 
skilled  in  the  use  of  arms,  than  were  these.  Never  were  seen 
ladies  so  proper,  so  handsome,  less  whimsical,  more  ready 
with  hand,  with  needle,  or  with  every  honest  and  free 
womanly  action,  than  were  these.  For  this  reason,  when 
the  time  came  that  any  man  of  the  said  abbey,  either  at 
the  request  of  his  parents  or  from  some  other  cause,  had  a 
mind  to  go  out  of  it,  he  carried  along  with  him  one  of  the 
ladies,  namely,  her  whom  he  had  chosen  before  for  his  mis- 
tress, and  they  were  married  together.  And  if  they  had 
formerly  lived  in  Thelema  in  good  devotion  and  amity,  they 
continued  therein,  and  increased  it  to  a  greater  height  in 
their  state  of  matrimony  :  so  that  they  entertained  that 
mutual  love  till  the  end  of  their  days  just  as  on  the  very 
first  day  of  their  wedding." 

The  dream  of  the  abbey  is  abandoned  as  soon  as  set 
down.  We  hear  no  more  of  it.  Friar  John,  when  we 
meet  him  again,  has  forgotten  it.  Certainly,  this  coarse 
biberon  of  a  monk  was  not  the  man  to  be  the  head  of  an 
abbey  in  which  gentlefolk  alone  were  to  be  admitted ; 
but  an  objection  of  this  kind  may  be  taken  to  most  of 
the  Rabelaisian  episodes :  the  author  conceives  vividly 
in  portions,  but  imperfectly  as  a  connected  whole.    There 


76  RABELAIS. 

is  nothing  more  outrageous  in  making  Friar  John  propose 
the  Abbey  of  Thelema  than  there  is  in  making  the  wise 
and  valiant  Gargantua  comb  cannon-balls  out  of  his  hair 
and  pick  pilgrims  out  of  his  teeth.  But  the  abbey ! 
Would  that  we  could  have  heard  more  of  it !  Would  that 
the  time  were  yet  arrived  when  young  men  and  maidens 
could  live  together  in  the  sacred  and  honourable  frater- 
nity imagined  by  this  prophet  of  a  perfected  humanity ! 

The  description  of  the  abbey  appears  to  me  the  noblest 
dream  of  the  sixteenth  century,  where  so  many  things 
seemed  possible,  and  men's  minds  rose  to  such  grand  con- 
ceptions. It  is  a  vision  which  should  have  come  to 
some  great  poet  and  been  wedded  to  immortal  verse.  In 
this  monastery,  which  is  the  world  at  its  best,  there  is 
to  be  no  ugliness  or  deformity,  either  moral  or  physical ; 
there  are  to  be  no  stupid  rules,  no  chains  of  custom  or 
convention — every  one's  conscience  is  to  be  his  guide ; 
there  are  no  chapels,  no  masses,  no  beads,  no  bells — every 
brother  communicates  alone  in  his  cell  with  his  God ; 
there  are  no  fasts ;  there  is  none  of  the  degrading  servi- 
tude to  law  which  troubles  the  outside  world.  It  is  a 
society  of  scholars,  students,  and  artists,  gentle  all,  living 
together  according  to  the  rules  of  nature,  restrained  by 
common-sense,  honour,  and  the  love  of  God,  continuously 
learning  to  respect  more  and  more  the  mysteries  of  that 
inconceivable  marvel,  which  we  call  creation,  by  study 
and  mutual  love ;  advancing  always  by  the  road  of 
unselfish  labour  to  the  higher  life  which  mostly,  to  us  of 
darkened  spirit,  seems  so  unattainable.  They  are  always 
genial,  cheerful,  and  thoughtfid  for  each  other.  There 
are  none  of  the  feastings  and  revellings  which  do  very 
well  for  the  court  of  Grandgousier  and  the  common  people, 


LOVE   THE   END.  77 

The  damoiseaux  and  damoiseUes  of  Thelema  do  not  think 
of  feasting.  Their  thoughts,  like  those  of  Eabelais  when 
he  wrote  these  chapters,  are  set  on  higher  things.  Love 
among  them  is  free,  and  marriage  the  natural  outcome  of 
their  life.  All  is  noble;  all  is  delightful;  all  is  ele- 
vated ;  all  is  well-bred  and  worthy ;  and,  to  crown  every- 
thing, from  a  Rabelaisian  point  of  view,  there  is  not  a 
priest  in  the  place 


76 


CHAPTER    TV 

THE  YOUTH   OP   PANTAGRUEI* 

The  Second  Book,  as  it  is  generally  called,  has  so  many 
points  of  resemblance  with  the  first,  and  is  yet  in  most 
respects  so  greatly  inferior,  that  it  is  like  a  rough  draft 
from  which  the  finished  picture  has  been  made.  There 
is  the  same  horrific  birth  of  the  young  giant,  but  there 
are  no  propos  des  buveurs.  The  infancy  and  childhood  of 
the  prince  are  described  as  in  the  'Gargantua,'  but  without 
the  elaboration  and  reckless  mirth  which  we  find  there. 
In  place  of  the  careful  scheme  of  education  and  its 
strongly  accentuated  contrasts  with  the  old  methods,  we 
have  only  a  letter,  remarkable  indeed,  and  containing  the 
germs  of  the  system  afterwards  worked  up  by  its  author. 
Pantagruel  goes  to  Paris,  like  his  father;  just  as  Gargantua 
listened  to  the  florid  harangue  of  Master  Janotus,  so  does 
Pantagruel  listen  to  the  pleadings  of  advocates.  Like 
Gargantua,  he  changes  idle  and  dissolute  habits  for  a  life 
of  study  and  industry  j  like  him,  he  wages  war  and  is 
victorious.  There  is  more  of  the  giant  in  Pantagruel 
than  in  Gargantua ;  there  is  less  wisdom ;  there  is  even, 
careless  of  Art  as  Rabelais  always  is,  less  skill  in  con- 
struction.    The  main  point  of  difference  is  that  in  Pan- 


BIRTH    OF    PANTAGRUEL.  79 

tagroel  we  are  first  introduced  to  Parmrge,  who  is  left 
out  of  this  chapter  because  he  deserves  one  all  to  himself. 
In  one  of  those  years  of  antiquity  in  which  everything 
happened  which  never  can  happen,  when  the  month  of 
March  had  no  Lent  and  the  middle  of  August  fell  in 
May,  and  in  one  week  in  which,  by  reason  of  its  being 
leap-year,  and  a  certain  variation  from  their  courses  of 
both  sun  and  moon,  there  were  three  Thursdays,  there  hap- 
pened a  miracle  in  the  matter  of  medlars,  which  grew  to  so 
enormous  a  size  that  three  of  them  filled  a  bushel.  Great 
was  the  delight  of  the  folk  in  eating  of  these  medlars, 
but  strange  was  the  effect  produced.  For  all  those  who 
ate  them  began  to  swell — some  in  the  eyes,  some  in  the 
shoulders,  some  in  the  head,  and  some  all  over — so  that 
they  became  giants.  Of  this  last  tribe  came,  through  a 
long  race  of  ancestors,  including  Goliath,  Cacus,  Enceladus, 
Briareus,  Antaeus,  and  Fierabras,  the  great  Pantagruel. 
Gargantua,  his  father,  was  four  hundred  fourscore  forty- 
and-four  years  of  age  at  the  birth  of  his  son, — observe 
that  we  have  here  nothing  to  do  with  the  wise  and  valiant 
Gargantua,  but  only  with  the  giant  of  the  '  Grandes 
Chroniques.'  The  boy  was  born  in  a  time  of  drought. 
His  mother  died  in  childbirth,  so  that  the  good  Gargan- 
tua was  distracted  between  joy  at  the  birth  of  so  goodly 
a  son  and  grief  at  the  death  of  his  wife. 

"'Shall  I  weep?'  he  said.  'Yes;  for  why?  My  wife,  so 
good,  is  dead,  who  was  the  most  this  and  the  most  that  who 
ever  was  in  the  world.  Never  shall  I  see  her ;  never  shall  I 
get  such  another.  It  is  to  me  a  loss  inestimable.  .  .  . 
Ah,  Badebec!  my  mignonne,  my  friend,  my  darling;  never 
shall  I  see  thee.  Ah,  poor  Pantagruel !  thou  hast  lost  thy 
good  mother,  thy  sweet  nurse,  thy  lady  beloved,'     ,    v  ♦ 


80  RABELAIS. 

And  so  saying  he  wept  like  a  cow,  but  suddenly  burst  into 
laughing  like  a  calf,  when  Pantagruel  came  into  his  mind. 
'  Ho,  my  little  son  ! '  he  said,  '  how  lovely  thou  art !  and 
much  am  I  beholden  to  God  for  giving  me  so  fair  a  son — 
so  joyous,  so  smiling,  so  jolly.  Ho !  ho !  ho !  how  glad  I  am ! 
Let  us  drink;  let  us  abandon  melancholy;  bring  the  best; 
rinse  the  glasses,  lay  the  cloth,  and  turn  out  the  dogs ;  blow 
up  the  fire,  light  the  candle,  hold  my  gown,  for  I  will  put 
myself  in  doublet,  the  better  to  entertain  the  gossips.' " 

The  child  is  called  Pantagruel,  from  the  Greek  7ravra, 
and  a  word  "  in  the  Hagarene  language"  meaning  thirsty. 
In  his  infancy  he  is  fed  with  the  milk  of  4600  cows, 
which  is  boiled  for  him  in  a  great  vessel  made  by  the 
united  efforts  of  all  the  braziers  of  Saumur,  Villedieu 
of  Normandy,  and  Bramont  in  Lorraine ;  and  they  served 
the  boiled  milk  in  a  bell,  which  may  still  be  seen  at 
Bourges.  The  child  was  so  strong  that  they  bound  him 
with  chains,  one  of  which  is  that  now  lying  between  the 
two  towers  of  La  Rochelle. 

After  many  exploits  possible  only  to  giants,  and  per- 
haps hardly  important  enough  to  be  remembered  among 
themselves,  the  boy  is  sent  to  school  at  Poitiers.  Here 
he  erects  the  "Pierre  levee,"  or  raised  stone,  which 
still  stands  at  a  short  distance  from  the  town.  He 
makes  but  a  short  stay  at  Poitiers,  going  from  that  place 
a  round  of  visits  to  all  the  university  towns  of  France. 
Starting  from  La  Rochelle,  he  took  ship  to  Bordeaux. 
Here  he  saw  the  mariners  playing  at  chuck-farthing  on 
the  quay.  From  Bordeaux  he  went  to  Toulouse,  where 
he  learned  to  dance,  and  would  have  stayed  longer  but 
that  he  saw  them  binning  three  professors  alive,  and,  in 
fear  lest  such  a  death  might  happen  to  himself,  he  de- 
parted and  went  to  Montpellier,  where  he  found  excellent 


THE    UNIVERSITIES.  81 

wine  of  Mirevaux  and  jovial  company.  Nevertheless 
he  went  on  to  Avignon,  where  he  fell  in  love,  and  was 
dragged  away  by  his  tutor  Epistemon.  Thence  to  Val- 
ence, to  Angers,  to  Bourges,  and  to  Orleans. 

It  has  been  supposed  that  Eabelais  himself  made  this 
round.  There  is  no  occasion  for  any  such  theory.  We 
know  already  that  he  lived  at  Liguge,  close  to  Poitiers, 
at  Montpellier,  and  at  Angers ;  we  have  shown  that  he 
most  probably  met  Clement  Marot  at  Bourges.  Valence 
is  near  Montpellier ;  Orleans  is  not  far  from  Bourges. 
As  regards  Toulouse  and  Bordeaux,  which  are  not  in- 
cluded in  the  Babelaisian  itinerary,  we  may  observe 
that  his  remarks  are  quite  general,  and  might  be  made 
without  knowing  the  places.  Bordeaux  was  a  place  of 
shipping :  sailors  everywhere  gamble  for  pence.  Toulouse 
was  infamous  to  every  scholar  for  the  shameful  burning 
of  Jean  Caturce,  professor  of  law,  for  heresy.  Of  this 
deed  of  cruelty  Eabelais  would  hear  all  the  details  from 
his  friend  Dolet,  who  had  the  courage  to  denounce  the 
act  when  a  young  man  of  only  twenty.  It  was  at 
Orleans  that  Pantagruel  met  a  Limousin  scholar  who 
talked  the  new  Latinised  French  which  Eonsard  and  his 
friends  were  endeavouring  to  introduce. 

The  language  of  clerks  and  scholars  of  the  middle  ages 
was  Latin,  so  that  had  the  student  whom  Pantagruel 
saluted  answered  in  that  tongue,  there  would  have  been 
nothing  extraordinary,  but  he  answered  in  the  new 
pedantic  jargon,  consisting  of  Latin  words  with  French 
terminations,  thus : — 

* '  My  friend,'  asked  Pantagruel,  '  whence  comest  thou  ? ' 
"  The  scholar  answers  him,  '  From  the  alme,  inclyte  and 
celebre  academy,  which  is  vocitated  Lutetia.' 

F.C. — VIII.  F 


82  RABELAIS. 

" '  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? '  asked  Pantagruel,  arton- 
ished  at  these  unknown  sounds. 

" '  He  means/  answered  his  friends,  '  from  Paris.' 

"'And  how,'  continued  Pantagruel,  'how  do  you  spend 
your  time  there,  you  students  of  Paris  ? ' 

" '  We  transfretate  the  Sequane  at  the  dilucul  and  crepus- 
cul :  we  deambulate  by  the  compites  and  quadrives  of  the 
urb ;  we  despumate  the  Latial  verbocination ;  and,  like 
verisimilar  amorabons,  we  captat  the  benevolence  of  the 
omnijugal,  omniform,  and  omnigenal  feminine  sex.  We 
cauponisate  in  the  meritorious  taberns  of  the  Pineapple,  the 
Castle,  the  Magdalene,  and  the  Mule,  fair  vervecine  spatules 
perforated  with  petrosil.  If  by  fortune  there  be  rarity  or 
penury  of  pecune  in  our  marsupies,  and  they  are  exhausted 
ot  ferruginean  metal,  for  the  shot  we  demit  our  codices,  and 
vestiments  opignerated,  prestolating  the  Tabellaries  to  some 
of  the  penates  and  patriotic  lares.' 

"  *  What  devilish  language  is  this  1 '  cries  the  astonished 
Pantagruel;  '  I  think  thou  art  some  kind  of  heretic/ 

" '  My  Lord,  no,  for  libentissimally,  as  soon  as  it  illucesceth 
any  minutule  slice  of  the  day,  I  deniigrate  into  one  of  these 
fair  architected  minsters,  and  there  irrorating  myself  with 
lustral  water,  I  mumble  off  certain  missic  precations  of  our 
8acrificul8,  and  submurmurating  my  horary  precules,  I  ab- 
sterge my  anime  from  its  nocturnal  inquinations.  I  revere 
the  olympicols.  I  latrially  venere  the  supernal  astripotent. 
I  dilige  and  redame  my  proxims.  I  observe  the  decalogical 
precepts,  and  according  to  the  facultatule  of  my  vires,  I  do 
not  discede  from  them  one  unguicule.  Nevertheless  it  is 
veriform,  because  Mammon  doth  not  supergurgitate  anything 
in  my  locules,  that  I  am  somewhat  rare  and  lent  to  superero- 
gate  the  elemosynes  to  those  egents  who  hostially  queritate 
their  stipe.' " 

By  the  aid  of  a  Latin  dictionary  this  rigmarole  may 
be  made  out.  It  is  a  parody  of  the  new  French  sought 
to  be  introduced  by  Ronsard  and  his  friends.     We  have 


LIBRARY    OF    ST    VICTOR.  83 

seen  that  the  school  never  forgave  Rabelais,  but  nursed 
their  wrath  till  the  time  came  for  writing  malicious 
epitaphs. 

Pantagruel  in  a  rage  takes  him  by  the  throat  with  a 
clutch  so  tremendous  that  the  unhappy  scholar  was  ever 
after  afflicted  with  a  continual  desire  to  drink,  which, 
unhappily,  brought  him  to  an  early  grave.  "  A  work  of 
divine  vengeance,"  says  Rabelais,  "  showing  us  that  we 
should,  as  said  Augustus,  shun  unknown  words  with  as 
much  heedfulness  as  pilots  of  ships  use  to  avoid  rocks 
at  sea." 

From  Orleans,  after  spoiling  all  the  wine  of  the  city 
by  carrying  the  big  bell  of  St  Aignan  through  the 
streets,  young  Pantagruel  travels  to  Paris,  which  he  con- 
siders a  good  place  to  live  in,  but  bad  to  die  in.  "While 
there  he  visited  the  "  great  and  stately  "  library  of  St 
Victor,  an  unfortunate  collection  of  medieval  scholastic 
books  at  which  the  new  scholars  were  never  tired  of 
scoffing.     Rabelais  gives  the  catalogue  at  length. 

It  must  be  owned  that  a  list  of  titles,  written  to 
satirise  and  bring  into  deeper  contempt  than  that  in 
which  they  already  languished  the  books  on  which 
former  generations  had  spent  their  lives  and  labours, 
does  not  offer  much  prospect  of  amusement  to  the 
modern  reader,  and  yet  the  extravagance,  the  overflow- 
ing imagination,  and  the  boundless  copiousness  dis- 
played in  the  list,  have  preserved  the  humour  of  this  old- 
fashioned  catalogue,  so  that  the  old  monastic  collection 
of  rubbish  known  as  the  Library  of  St  Victor  seems 
familiar  to  us  who  have  never  seen  and  laughed  at  it. 
Many  of  the  titles,  and  those  not  the  least  absurd,  are 
titles  of  real  books,  copies  of  which  may  still  be  found 


84  RABELAIS. 

forgotten  and  dust-covered  in  corners  of  old  libraries. 
The  following  are  among  the  least  extravagant :  — 

The  Mustard-pot  of  Penitence. 

The  Boots  of  Patience. 

The  Keverend  Father  Lubin's  Three  Books  de  cro- 
quendis  lardonibus. 

The  Spectacles  of  Kome-Trampers. 

Majoris  de  modo  faciendi  boudinos. 

The  Pleasures  of  Monastic  Life. 

The  Potations  of  Potative  Bishops. 

Godemarre  of  the  Five  Mendicant  Orders. 

Merlinus  Coccaius  de  patria  diabolorum. 

Pantona  decretorum. 

Beda  de  optimitate  triparum. 

The  Mummery  of  Ghosts  and  Will-o'-the- Wisps. 

The  Chimney-Sweeper  of  Astrology. 

While  at  Paris,  Pantagruel  addressed  himself  seriously 
to  study,  and  received  a  letter  from  his  father  Gargantua, 
which  is  a  most  grave  and  serious  exhortation  to  study, 
and  a  most  eloquent  eulogium  on  learning.  It  is  not  the 
king  who  speaks,  it  is  the  author  who  for  thirty  years 
has  been  learning  incessantly,  who  has  never  ceased  from 
congratulating  himself  on  being  born  in  a  time  so  favour- 
able to  scholars,  and  in  days  no  longer,  as  those  of  the 
previous  generation,  still  "in  darkness,  and  still  feeling 
the  infelicity  and  calamity  of  the  Goths."  Observe  that 
while  in  the  finished  scheme  Gargantua  is  stated  vaguely 
to  have  studied  six  hours  a-day,  in  this  earlier  letter  the 
very  subjects  are  prescribed. 

"  That  which  I  now  write  unto  thee  is  not  so  much  that 
thou  shouldst  live  in  a  course  of  virtue  as  that  thou  shouldst 
rejoice  in  so  living  and  having  lived,  and  shouldst  cheer  thy- 


GARGANTUAS    LETTER.  85 

self  up  with  the  like  resolution  for  the  future.  To  the  per- 
fection of  this  undertaking  thou  mayest  easily  remember 
that  I  have  spared  nothing,  but  have  helped  thee  as  if  I  had 
no  other  treasure  in  the  world,  only  to  see  thee  once  in  my 
life  absolute  and  perfect,  as  well  in  virtue,  honesty,  and 
valour,  as  in  all  liberal  knowledge,  and  so  to  leave  thee  after 
my  death  as  a  mirror  representing  the  person  of  myself,  thy 
father  ;  and  if  not  so  excellent  and  altogether  as  I  wish  thee 
to  be,  yet  such  indeed  is  my  desire.  .  .  .  When  I  studied, 
the  time  was  not  so  convenient  to  letters  as  it  is  at  present, 
and  T  had  not  the  same  abundance  of  teachers  as  you  have 
had  ;  dark  too  were  the  times,  and  feeling  still  something  of 
the  infelicity  and  calamity  of  the  Goths,  who  brought  de- 
struction upon  all  good  literature.  But,  by  divine  goodness, 
light  and  dignity  have  been  in  my  age  restored  to  letters. 
Now  is  every  kind  of  teaching  revived — languages  intro- 
duced— Greek,  without  which  it  is  a  shame  that  any  one 
should  call  himself  a  scholar,  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  and  Latin. 
Correct  and  elegant  printed  books  are  in  use, — an  invention 
of  divine  inspiration,  just  as,  on  the  other  hand,  artillery  is 
of  diabolical  inspiration.  All  the  world  is  full  of  scholars,  of 
learned  tutors,  and  of  rich  libraries  ;  and  henceforth  it  will 
be  no  longer  possible  to  find  in  place  or  in  company  one  who 
is  not  trained  in  Minerva's  workshop.  .  .  .  Wherefore, 
my  son,  I  admonish  thee  that  thou  employ  thy  youth  in 
profiting  by  study  and  by  virtue.  I  mean,  and  I  desire  that 
thou  learn  the  languages  perfectly  :  first  Greek,  as  Quin- 
tilian  desires ;  secondly,  Latin ;  and  then  thirdly,  Hebrew 
for  the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  and  Chaldee  and  Arabic  likewise, 
and  for  the  forming  of  thy  style  in  Greek  after  Plato,  and  in 
Latin  after  Cicero.  Let  there  be  no  history  which  thou 
shalt  not  have  ready  in  thy  memory,  in  which  thou  wilt  be 
aided  by  the  geographies  of  those  who  have  written  on  this 
subject.  Of  the  liberal  arts,  Geometry,  Arithmetic,  and 
Music,  I  gave  thee  some  taste  when  thou  wert  yet  a  little 
boy  of  five  or  six  years.  Proceed  further  in  the  remainder. 
As  for  Astronomy,  study  all  the  rules  thereof.  Pass  by, 
nevertheless,  divining  astrology,  and  the  art  of  Lully,  as 


86  KABELAIS. 

being  nothing  else  bnt  abuses  and  vanities.  As  for  the  Civil 
Law,  of  that  I  would  have  thee  to  know  the  texts  by  heart, 
and  then  to  compare  them  with  Philosophy. 

"  Now,  in  matter  of  the  knowledge  of  the  works  of  nature, 
I  would  have  thee  give  thyself  curiously,  that  there  be  no 
sea,  river,  nor  fountain,  of  which  thou  dost  not  know  the  fishes  ; 
all  the  fowls  of  the  air ;  all  the  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  forest ; 
all  the  herbs  of  the  earth  ;  all  the  metals  that  are  hidden  with- 
in the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  the  precious  stones  of  all  the  east 
and  south.  Let  nothing  of  all  these  be  unknown  to  thee. 
.  .  .  And  at  some  hours  of  the  day  begin  to  visit  the  Holy 
Scriptures:  first,  in  Greek,  the  New  Testament,  with  the 
Epistles  of  the  Apostles ;  and  the  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew. 
In  brief,  let  me  see  thee  an  abyss  of  knowledge  :  for,  from 
henceforward,  as  thou  growest  great  and  becomest  a  man, 
thou  must  part  from  this  tranquillity  and  rest  of  study ;  thou 
must  learn  chivalry,  warfare,  and  the  exercises  of  the  field, 
the  better  whereby  to  defend  my  house  and  to  succour  our 
friends  in  all  their  needs  against  the  assaults  of  evil-ioers." 

This  is  the  first  time  in  "  Pantagruel " — that  is,  in  the 
whole  work  chronologically  —  that  Rabelais  is  really 
serious.  Considering  that  six  important  chapters  in 
"Gargantua"  are  devoted  to  the  question  of  education,  it 
is  manifest  how  strongly  the  necessity  of  a  more  enlight- 
ened system  was  impressed  upon  his  mind.  It  is  worthy 
of  note,  too,  that  this  complex  and  encyclopaedic  education 
is  not  designed  to  fit  a  man  for  the  office  of  professor, 
scholar,  or  divine,  but  is  proposed  as  an  introduction  to 
the  active  and  practical  duties  of  a  prince.  Nothing  fits 
a  man  for  the  administration  of  affairs,  Rabelais  would 
have  said,  so  much  as  the  accumulation  of  knowledge. 
The  prejudice  which  in  all  countries  exists  against  states- 
men who  are  also  philosophers  is  founded  in  the  distrust 
of  speculative  philosophy.     Compare,  however,  tlte  in- 


FIKST    SCHEME    OF    EDUCATION.  87 

junctions  in  Gargantua's  letter  with  the  curriculum  in- 
stituted by  Ponocrates.  The  former  foreshadow  the  prac- 
tical good  sense  of  the  latter.  One  feels  that  a  prince  so 
brought  up,  so  trained  in  all  the  wisdom  of  ancients  and 
moderns,  so  practised  in  all  bodily  exercises,  so  drilled 
to  consider  no  mechanical  industry  unworthy  of  his 
study,  has  received  all  that  can  be  done  for  one  who  has 
to  rule  as  well  as  to  reign.  The  rest  depends  upon  nat- 
ural ability. 

It  may  be  objected,  of  course,  that  it  is  utterly  im- 
possible for  such  a  king  as  Gargantua,  who  has  behaved 
like  the  foolish  giant  that  he  was,  in  the  matter  of  the 
death  of  his  wife  and  the  birth  of  his  son,  to  write  such 
a  letter.  Such  incongruities,  however,  are  entirely  after 
the  manner  of  Eabelais.  "When  he  wrote  "  Gargantua  " 
as  an  introduction  to  "  Pantagruel "  he  forgot  in  exactly 
the  same  way  the  blubbering  and  emotional  giant  in  the 
first  chapter  of  the  latter,  and  gave  the  young  Gargantua 
such  a  training  as  should  have  made  him  the  wisest  and 
the  best  of  princes  —  such  a  prince  as  the  world  has 
prayed  for  since  kings  were  first  invented. 

Panurge,  the  incomparable  Panurge,  who  is  introduced 
at  this  point,  demands  a  chapter  to  himself.  On  one 
point,  however,  we  must  be  clear.  Panurge,  large  as 
is  the  part  he  plays  in  the  book,  is  not  the  hero  of 
Rabelais.  The  hero,  whether  of  "Gargantua"  or  of 
"Pantagruel,"  is  always  the  king.  He  it  is  who,  by 
right  of  his  exalted  position  and  his  virtues,  occupies 
the  greatest  space  on  the  canvas.  Whenever  there  is 
danger  of  his  being  forgotten  he  is  restored,  by  the 
simplest  trick  in  the  world,  as  the  central  figure.  He 
becomes  a  giant  again. 


88  RABELAIS. 

We  need  not  delay  over  the  case  which  Pantagruel 
is  called  upon  to  hear  and  decide,  just  as  Gargantua 
(p.  58)  heard  the  appeal  in  the  case  of  the  bells.  It  is 
a  parody  on  the  interminable  pleadings,  the  inability  to 
state  a  case  clearly,  which  belonged  to  the  courts  of  law. 
The  case  referred  to  the  decision  of  Pantagruel  had  been 
considered  by  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  the  Grand  Council. 
and  professors  of  France,  England,  and  Italy.  Aftei 
forty-six  weeks  of  deliberation  they  could  make  nothing 
of  it.  And  as  for  the  documents  and  papers  connected 
with  the  case,  they  amounted  in  all  to  four  donkey-loads. 
These,  however,  Pantagruel  burns,  and  orders  the  case  to 
be  set  forth  de  novo. 

It  has  been  found  possible  in  our  time  to  present  a 
parody  on  the  procedure  of  courts.  It  is  never,  and  in 
no  country,  difficult  to  present  what  seems  to  be  hardly 
a  caricature  of  the  advocate's  long-winded  pleadings 
and  a  judge's  capricious,  arbitrary,  and  opinionated  in- 
terruptions. But  pedantry  in  its  pseudo-classical  form 
has  long  since  left  both  bar  and  bench.  Counsel  and 
judge  no  longer  rely  upon  a  fancied  analogy  between 
a  mythological  case  in  Ovid  and  a  real  case  of  modern 
law.  It  will  therefore  be  well  to  dismiss  both  the  argu- 
ments and  the  decision.  This  Pantagruel  delivers  in  a 
style  corresponding  to  that  of  the  advocates.  Neither 
pleading  nor  decision  is  for  three  lines  together  intelli- 
gible. Yet  so  great  was  the  rapture  of  the  counsellors 
and  other  doctors  of  law,  and  so  much  were  they  ravished 
with  admiration  at  the  wisdom  of  a  prince  so  young,  that 
they  fell  into  a  trance  for  the  space  of  three  hours,  and 
would  have  so  continued  until  the  present  day  had  not 
certain  good  people  brought  vinegar  and  rose-water  to 


pantagruel's  campaign.  89 


bring  them  round  again  "  to  their  former  understandin, 
for  -which  God  be  thanked  everywhere." 

While  Pantagruel  was  living  in  great  joy  and  happi- 
ness at  Paris,  diverted  by  the  tricks  of  Panurge — as  yet 
Friar  John  does  not  appear  upon  the  scene — he  learned 
that  his  father  has  been  translated  to  the  land  of  the 
fairies,  and  that  the  Dipsodes,  taking  advantage  of  there 
being  no  king,  had  invaded  his  country  of  Utopia,  and 
besieged  the  city  of  Amaurotes.  The  prince  instantly 
sets  out,  accompanied  by  all  his  suit,  to  repel  the  in- 
vaders. They  take  ship  at  Honfleur — in  "  Gargantua  " 
the  kingdom  of  Utopia  is  in  or  about  Touraine — and  sail 
to  the  Canary  Islands,  to  Madeira,  and  by  Senegal,  round 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  after  passing  the  islands  of 
Nowhere  and  Nothing,  arrive  at  the  port  of  Utopia,  at 
three  leagues'  distance  from  the  city  of  the  Amaurotes. 

The  enemy,  under  the  command  of  Anarchus  and  his 
captain,  Loupgarou,  with  three  hundred  giants,  are  dis- 
persed ;  there  is  a  combat  between  Loupgarou  and  Pan- 
tagruel, in  which  the  former  is  slain  with  all  his  giants. 
It  is  singular,  but  quite  after  the  manner  of  Eabelais,  to 
find  in  the  midst  of  the  maddest  extravagance  a  most 
solemn  and  grave  prayer  offered  by  Pantagruel  immedi- 
ately before  the  battle. 

The  victory  was  dashed  at  first  with  mourning  for 
Epistemon,  who  was  found  with  his  head  cut  off,  but 
the  body  was  warm.  Panurge  undertook  to  restore  him. 
This  he  effected  by  the  simple  method  of  putting  the 
head  on  again  very  carefully,  and  sewing  it  round  with 
fifteen  or  sixteen  stitches.  As  soon  as  Epistemon  began 
to  breathe,  they  gave  him  a  large  glass  of  strong  white 
wine,  after  which  he  grew  rapidly  well,  save  for  a  little 


90  RABELAIS. 

hoarseness  during  the  next  three  weeks,  and  a  dry  cough 
for  which  the  only  remedy  was  continual  drinking. 

As  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  he  told  the 
story  of  what  he  had  seen  in  the  nether  regions. 

A  descent  into  Hades  is  no  new  thing  in  literature. 
There  are  the  purely  poetical  descents,  as  those  of  Virgil, 
JEne&s,  and  Dante;  the  medieval  stories,  meant  to  be 
taken  literally,  like  that  of  St  Patrick's  cave  on  Lough 
Derg,  where  was  the  entrance  to  Purgatory ;  the  medieval 
stories  which  are  satirical ;  the  many  classical  stories, 
especially  that  to  which  Rabelais  is  most  largely  indebted, 
the  '  Necyomancie '  of  Lucian.  According  to  the  ex- 
perience of  Epistemon,  things  have  been  grossly  misre- 
presented. The  wicked  are  not  treated  with  the  cruelty 
usually  believed ;  they  are  only  transformed  into  some 
new  conditions  of  life  which  shall  form  the  greatest  con- 
trast to  their  former  grandeur.  Alexander  the  Great, 
for  instance,  is  a  journeyman  tailor  who  gains  a  poor 
livelihood  by  darning  and  repairing  old  clothes ;  Xerxes 
bawls  mustard  along  the  street ;  Sylla  is  a  ferryman ; 
Cyrus  has  become  a  cowkeeper ;  Priam  vends  old  rags ; 
Lancelot  of  the  Lake  skins  dead  horses ;  King  Baldwin 
of  Jerusalem  is  a  churchwarden ;  Pope  Alexander  the 
Sixth  is  a  ratcatcher ;  Trajan  fishes  for  frogs ;  Nero  very 
appropriately  plays  a  fiddle  along  the  streets ;  Cleopatra 
retails  onions,  and  Dido  mushrooms.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  philosophers,  and  those  who  had  been  in  this 
world  beggars,  are  there  great  people,  —  among  them 
Epistemon  saw  Diogenes,  dressed  in  purple  and  with  a 
great  golden  sceptre ;  and  Epictetus,  gallantly  apparelled 
after  the  Erench  fashion,  sitting  under  a  pleasant  arbour, 
dancing  and  singing  with  gentlewomen. 


CONCLUSION    ?F    THE    BOOK.  91 

As  for  the  captive  Anarchus,  it  is  suggested  that  he 
had  better  be  taught  such  an  art  as  will  be  useful  to  him 
in  the  next  world,  since  that  is  regulated  by  contraries. 
They  therefore  dress  him  in  rags,  teach  him  to  hawk 
green  sauce  about  the  street,  and  marry  him  to  an  old 
lantern-woman. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  book  did  not  stop  here.  But 
Rabelais  unfortunately  remembers,  which  we  would  fain 
forget,  that  he  has  a  giant  to  deal  with,  and  Pantagruel 
has  to  support  the  character.  A  story  is  borrowed  from 
Lucian's  *  True  Voyage,'  which  does  service  for  the  occa- 
sion. There  is  nothing  in  it  but  pure  extravagance,  and, 
together  with  the  chapter  which  follows,  is  tedious. 

Rabelais  here  concludes  the  First  Book  of  "Pantagruel." 
He  promises  to  follow  it  up  with  a  crowd  of  adventures 
for  the  Second  Book.  Needless  to  say,  not  one  of  his 
promises  are  kept. 

"  If  you  say  to  me,  Master,  it  would  seem  that  you  are  not 
very  wise  in  writing  for  us  these  flim-flam  stories,  and  plea- 
sant fooleries, — I  reply  to  you,  that  you  are  not  much  wiser 
to  spend  your  time  in  reading  them.  Nevertheless,  if  you 
read  them  for  your  pastime,  as  in  manner  of  pastime  I  made 
them,  you  and  I  are  more  worthy  of  pardon  than  a  great 
rabble  of  pretenders  and  hypocrites  who  disguise  themselves 
like  monks  to  deceive  the  world.  For  while  they  give  the 
common  people  to  understand  that  they  are  busied  about 
nothing  but  contemplation  and  devotion  in  fastings  and 
maceration  of  the  flesh,  on  the  contrary,  they  make  good 
cheer.  Et  Curios  simulant,  sed  Bacchanalia  vivunt.  .  .  .  Fly 
from  these  men,  abhor  and  hate  them  as  much  as  I  do,  and 
upon  my  word  you  will  find  the  benefit  of  it.  And  if  you 
desire  to  be  good  Pantagruelists — that  is  to  say,  to  live  in 
peace,  joy,  health,  making  yourselves  always  merry — never 
trust  men  who  always  peep  through  one  hole." 


92 


CHAPTER    V. 


PANURGE. 


The  Third  Book  of  this  romance  appeared  with  the 
king's  privilege  in  1546,  thirteen  years  after  the  First  of 
" Pantagruel."  In  1547  Francis  died;  and,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  reaction  set  in.  But  the  mischief  was  done ; 
the  Sorbonne  could  not  make  the  people  forget  what 
they  had  read ;  and  this  was  nothing  less  than  the  most 
spirited  hook  of  modern  literature.  Other  writers  had 
nobler  themes;  no  others  had  more  fitting  objects  of 
satire.  Others,  men  like  Erasmus,  DAubigne,  and  Von 
Hutten,  attacked,  each  in  his  own  way,  the  follies  of  the 
age.  No  one  except  Babelais,  and  he  only  in  this  Third 
Book,  attacked  with  the  light  laugh  of  one  who  ridiculed 
without  bitterness,  and  preserved  at  the  same  high  level 
his  good  temper,  his  good  spirits,  and  his  verve.  In  this 
Book  he  feels  the  fulness  of  his  strength ;  he  discards  his 
troublesome  giant  machinery ;  Pantagruel  assumes  the 
external  proportions  of  a  man ;  and  the  author,  proud  of 
his  work  and  himself,  drops  the  anagram  of  Alcofribas 
Kasier,  and  assumes  his  own  name.  I  call  this  chapter 
"  Panurge,"  because  the  book,  save  for  one  brief  episode, 
is  entirely  occupied  with  the  adventures  and  exploits  of 
that  hero 


PREFACE.  93 

In  the  preface  to  this  volume,  Babelais  compares  him- 
self with  Diogenes,  who,  when  the  Corinthians,  threat- 
ened with  instant  attack  from  Philip,  began  in  the 
greatest  haste  to  prepare  for  battle,  girded  up  his  cloak, 
tucked  up  his  sleeves,  and  carried  his  tub  outside  the 
city,  where,  in  great  vehemency  of  spirit,  he  began 

"  To  turn  it,  veer  it,  wheel  it,  frisk  it,  jumble  it,  shuffle  it, 
huddle  it,  tumble  it,  hurry  it,  jolt  it,  justle  it,  overthrow  it, 
evert  it,  invert  it,  subvert  it,  overturn  it,  beat  it,  thwack  it, 
bump  it,  batter  it,  knock  it,  thrust  it,  push  it,  jerk  it,  shock 
it,  shake  it,  toss  it,  throw  it,  overthrow  it,  upside  down, 
topsy-turvy,  tread  it,  trample  it,  stamp  it,  tap  it,  ting  it, 
ring  it,  tingle  it,  towl  it,  sound  it,  resound  it,  stop  it,  shut  it, 
unbung  it,  close  it,  unstopple  it.  .  .  .  Which  when  his 
friends  had  seen,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  so  toil  his  body, 
perplex  his  spirit,  and  torment  his  tub,  the  philosopher's 
answer  was  that,  not  being  employed  in  any  other  charge  by 
the  Kepublic,  he  thought  it  expedient  to  thunder  and  storm 
it  so  tempestuously  upon  his  tub,  that,  amongst  a  people  so 
fervently  busy,  and  earnest  at  work,  he  alone  might  not  seem 
a  loitering  slug  and  lazy  fellow." * 

This  needs  no  explanation,  far  less  the  exhortation  to 
drink  which  follows  in  the  maddest  Rabelaisian.  Let 
us  at  once  proceed  to  the  first  chapter.  "Having  de- 
spatched this  point,  let  us  return  to  the  barrel,  with 
'  Up,  my  lads,  to  the  wine.'  " 

Let  us  remark  that  the  rollicking  merriment,  the 
exuberance  of  animal  spirits,  which  lights  up  these 
pages,  belongs  to  a  man  of  sixty-three.  At  that  age 
there  is  no  note  of  sadness  or  disappointment.  The 
writer  is  as  full  of  hope  as  any  boy  of  twenty,  and  as 
full  of  gaiety.     There  was  one  reason,  at  least,  as  we 

1  Urquhart's  Translation. 


94  RABELAIS. 

have  seen,  why  the  youthful  heart  of  Rabelais  was  pro- 
longed to  sixty — his  youth  only  began  at  forty.  He 
had  had  no  time  as  yet  to  feel  the  bitterness  of  dis- 
appointment ;  he  still  believed  in  men,  in  the  future,  in 
the  glorious  prospects  of  liberty  and  learning.  When, 
six  years  later,  he  comes  forward  with  his  Fourth  Book, 
we  shall  see  that  he  has  been  aged,  not  by  years,  which 
could  destroy  the  powers  of  his  body  but  not  his  cheer- 
fulness, but  by  the  failure  of  things  he  had  looked  for, 
by  the  judicial  murder  of  friends,  and  by  the  shadow  of 
that  impending  conflict — Eabelais  had  little  sympathy 
with  either  side — which  was  to  end  in  the  annihilation 
of  free  thought  in  his  country. 

Pantagruel,  having  fairly  conquered  the  Land  of 
Dipsodie — one  wonders  why  Rabelais  took  the  trouble 
to  revive  that  old  story  —  transported  a  colony  of 
Utopians  to  people  and  cultivate  the  country,  most 
of  which  was  a  desert,  and  to  retain  the  rebellious 
natives  within  the  bounds  of  obedience.  As  for  his 
own  people,  he  had  no  fear  that  they  would  depart  from 
their  fidelity  ;  for  indeed  the  Utopians  sucked  in  loyalty 
with  their  mothers'  milk,  so  humane  and  so  mild  was 
the  government  of  their  king.  After  only  a  few  days  of 
conversation  with  their  new  friends,  the  Dipsodes  became 
as  loyal  and  as  good  subjects,  regretting  only  that  they 
had  not  sooner  arrived  at  the  knowledge  of  the  good 
Pantagruel. 

"  You  will  note  therefore  here,  my  drinkers,  that  the  true 
way  of  holding  and  preserving  countries  newly  conquered  is 
not,  as  has  been  the  erroneous  opinion  of  certain  tyrannical 
spirits,  to  their  own  loss  and  dishonour,  by  pillaging,  forcing, 
oppressing,  ruining,  vexing,  and  governing  with  rods  of  iron. 


PANURGE.  95 

.  .  .  Osiris,  the  great  king  of  the  Egyptians,  conquered 
the  whole  earth,  not  so  much  by  force  of  arms,  as  by  easing 
the  people  of  their  troubles,  teaching  them  how  to  live  well 
and  healthily,  with  good  laws,  affability,  and  benefits." 

This  advice  belongs  to  that  kind  of  moral  teaching 
which  nobody  disputes.  It  would  be  admitted  to  be 
good  by  every  country  under  the  sun.  And  yet  we 
continue  to  read  of  Poland,  Circassia,  and  other  places. 
If  no  good  teaching  is  to  be  abandoned  until  the  world 
at  large  has  incorporated  it  in  its  daily  and  habitual 
life,  then  these  maxims  of  Rabelais  may  still  be  con- 
sidered useful  to  remember. 

His  conquests  thus  fairly  set  in  order,  Rabelais  was 
able  to  return  to  the  Panurge  whom  he  had  created 
thirteen  years  before,  and  who  had  been  growing  in  his 
brain  until  this  one  creation  threatened  to  overshadow  all 
the  rest.  And,  in  fact,  except  the  stately  figure  of  the 
king,  who  is  always  present,  the  stage  is  henceforth 
chiefly  occupied  by  Panurge  and  Friar  John. 

The  incomparable  Panurge  appears,  then,  first  in  the 
earlier  Book.  The  manner  in  which  Pantagruel  meets 
him  is  in  this  wise  : — 

"  One  day  Pantagruel,  walking  without  the  city  towards 
the  Abbey  of  Saint  Antoine,  conversing  and  philosophising 
with  his  people  and  certain  scholars,  met  a  man  fair  ol 
stature  and  well  proportioned  in  all  the  members  of  his  body, 
but  piteously  wounded  in  several  parts,  and  in  such  miser- 
able guise  that  he  seemed  to  have  escaped  from  the  dogs,  or 
rather  resembled  an  apple -picker  of  Le  Perche.  When 
Pantagruel  saw  him  yet  afar  off,  he  said  to  his  assistants, 
'  See  you  yon  man  who  comes  by  the  road  of  the  Charen- 
ton  Bridge  ?  By  my  faith,  he  is  only  poor  by  fortune.  I 
assure  you,  from  his  physiognomy,  that  Nature  has  produced 
him  of  rich  and  noble  lineage.' " 


96  RABELAIS. 

He  then  accosts  the  stranger,  with  his  princely  conrtesy, 
and  offers  him  assistance.  Panurge,  for  it  is  he,  answers 
successively  in  German,  Arabic,  Italian,  English,  Bis- 
cayan,  Breton,  Spanish,  Danish,  Hebrew,  Greek,  and 
Latin.  "  Dea !  my  friend,"  cried  Pantagruel,  at  last, 
"  can  you  not  speak  French  V  "  Yes,  very  well,  sir," 
replied  the  stranger.  "  It  is,  thank  God,  my  maternal 
and  natural  tongue,  for  I  was  born  and  brought  up  in 
Touraine,  the  Garden  of  France." 

Taken  into  Pantagruel's  household,  and  refreshed  by 
a  long  rest,  with  copious  eating  and  drinking,  Panurge 
proceeds  to  tell  the  story  of  his  escape  from  the  Turks, 
"  without  one  word  of  falsehood  : " — 

"  The  rascal  Turks  had  broached  me  on  a  spit,  larded  like 
a  rabbit,  for  I  was  so  thin  that  otherwise  my  flesh  would  have 
made  bad  eating,  and  in  this  manner  they  began  to  roast  me 
alive.  Now  while  they  were  roasting  me  I  recommended  my- 
self to  the  grace  divine,  having  in  remembrance  the  good 
Saint  Lawrence  ;  and  I  trusted  continually  in  God,  that  He 
would  deliver  me  from  that  torment,  which  was  done  very 
strangely.  For  .  .  .  the  roaster  by  the  divine  will  fell  fast 
asleep.  .  .  .  Then  I  took  between  my  teeth  a  brand  by 
the  end  where  it  was  not  burned,  and  I  threw  it  into  his  lap ; 
and  another  I  threw  as  well  as  I  could  under  a  camp-bed 
near  the  chimney,  on  which  was  the  straw  mattress  of  master 
roaster.  Immediately  the  fire  caught  the  straw,  and  from 
the  straw  the  bed,  and  from  the  bed  the  ceiling,  which 
was  covered  with  fir.  But  the  good  thing  was  that  the  fire 
which  I  threw  into  the  rascal  roaster's  lap  burned  his  gown, 
so  that  he  started  up  and  cried  at  the  window  as  loud  as  he 
could, '  Dal  baroth  !  Dal  baroth  ! '  which  means  Fire !  Fire  t 
Then  he  came  straight  to  me,  to  throw  me  into  the  fire,  and 
to  that  purpose  cut  the  bandages  off  my  hands  and  feet.  But 
the  master  of  the  house,  hearing  the  cry  of  fire,  and  smelling 
the  smoke  of  the  street  when  he  was  walking  with  other 


THE    ESCAPE    OF    PANURGE.  97 

Bashaws  and  Musafys,  ran  as  hard  as  he  could  to  give  help 
and  carry  off  the  valuables. 

"  As  soon  as  he  arrived,  he  seized  the  spit  on  which  I  was 
spitted,  and  killed  my  roaster  stiff  and  dead.  True  it  is  that 
in  drawing  the  spit  from  me  I  fell  to  the  ground  near 
the  gridirons,  and  my  fall  did  me  a  little  harm,  but  not 
much,  for  the  larding  of  bacon  saved  me.  Then,  my  Bashaw 
seeing  that  the  case  was  desperate,  and  that  his  house  was 
burned  without  remission,  and  all  his  property  lost,  gave 
himself  up  to  all  his  devils,  calling  nine  times  on  Grilgoth, 
Astaroth,  Rappalus,  and  Gribouillis. 

"  Seeing  which,  I  had  more  than  five  pennyworth  of  fear, 
thinking,  should  the  devils  come  and  carry  off  the  madman, 
would  they  be  likely  sort  of  people  to  carry  me  off  too  ?  So 
I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  crying  dyios  ddduaros  o  Qeos,  and 
none  came.  Seeing  which,  my  villain  Bashaw  tried  to  kill 
himself  with  my  spit ;  but  it  was  not  sharp  enough,  and 
push  as  hard  as  he  would,  he  profited  nothing.  Then  I 
came  to  him,  saying,  *  Master,  you  lose  your  time  ;  you  will 
never  kill  yourself  this  way  :  perhaps  you  will  do  yourself 
some  harm  of  which  you  will  languish  all  the  days  of  your 
life  among  the  doctors.  Now,  if  you  like,  I  will  kill  you 
right  off,  so  that  you  will  feel  nothing  at  all.  You  may 
trust  me,  for  I  have  killed  plenty  of  folk  who  felt  themselves 
all  the  better  for  it  afterwards.' 

"  *  Ah  !  my  friend/  he  said,  '  do  it,  I  pray  thee,  and  I  will 
give  thee  my  purse  with  600  seraphs  in  it,  and  diamonds 
and  rubies  of  the  finest.' 

" '  Where  are  they  ? '  asked  Epistemon. 

" l  By  St  John ! '  said  Panurge,  '  they  are  far  enough  off 
now  if  they  keep  on  travelling.'  But  '  where  are  last  year's 
snows  1 '    That  was  all  that  Villon  of  Paris  cared  to  ask. 

"  '  Go  on,'  said  Pantagruel,  '  that  we  know  how  you  treated 
your  Bashaw.' 

"'As  an  honest  man,'  said  Panurge,  *  I  do  not  lie  in  one 
single  word.  I  bound  him  with  an  old  pair  of  pantaloons 
that  I  found  half  burned,  and  I  tied  him  up  hands  and  feet, 

F.C. — VIII.  O 


98  RABELAIS. 

so  that  he  could  not  even  kick.  Then  I  passed  my  spit 
through  his  throat,  and  hanged  him  up  on  two  iron  hooks. 
Then  I  lit  a  great  fire  below  him,  and  flamed  up  my  lord, 
resting  the  spit  as  they  do  to  herrings  hanging  in  the  chimney 
to  be  dried.  Then  I  took  his  purse  and  a  little  javelin,  and 
ran  away.  When  I  came  down  into  the  street,  I  found  every- 
body running  with  water  to  put  out  the  fire.  And  seeing  me 
thus  half  roasted,  they  naturally  had  pity  on  me,  and  threw 
water  over  me,  and  joyously  refreshed  me.  .  .  .  And  note 
that  this  roasting  entirely  cured  me  of  a  sciatica  to  which 
I  had  been  subject  more  than  seven  years,  on  the  side  on 
which  my  roaster  let  me  burn  when  he  went  to  sleep.  Thus 
did  I  escape,  gallant  and  gay,  et  vive  la  rotisserie ! ' " 

These  and  other  experiences  of  Panurge  are  narrated 
in  a  spirit  of  pure  gaiety  and  reckless  extravagance.  The 
fun  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  of  the  brutal  order;  but 
what  can  we  look  for  in  the  sixteenth  century  ?  In  fact, 
that  kind  of  jocularity  which  is  aroused  by  the  suffer- 
ings, humiliation,  or  even  the  death,  of  one's  friends, 
forms  the  staple  of  the  Eabelaisian  fun,  just  as  it  does  in 
the  "  Fabliaux  "  of  his  predecessors,  and  the  "  Contes  " 
of  his  contemporaries.  As  regards  the  adventure  I  have 
just  quoted,  it  was  entirely  in  the  spirit  of  the  time.  It 
seemed  quite  natural  to  the  readers  of  Kabelais  that  a 
Turk  should  hang  up  a  Christian  to  be  roasted  alive,  and 
equally  natural  that  the  Christian  should  turn  the  tables 
upon  his  torturer. 

Attached  to  the  household  of  Pantagruel,  Panurge  be 
gins  over  again,  with  as  keen  a  relish  as  if  he  were  •till 
a  student,  the  tricks  and  pranks  of  his  former  life.  It 
would  be  an  excellent  contribution  to  the  many  lost  or 
unwritten  chapters  of  fiction,  were  some  one  to  recon- 
struct the  earlier  years  of  Panurge.      We  shall  never 


PANURGE.  99 

know  how  or  why  he  fell  among  the  Turks ;  we  might, 
indeed,  from  the  subsequent  development  of  his  char- 
acter, be  led  to  conjecture  that  he  had  never  left  the 
limits  of  France  at  all,  and  invented  the  whole  story  to 
please  the  good-natured  and  wonder-loving  prince  who 
was  to  entertain  him.  It  is  not  difficult  to  make  such  a 
reconstruction.  Eliminate  from  the  confessions  of  Villon 
those  egarements  in  the  direction  of  burglary,  fraud,  and 
pillage,  which  led  that  poet  to  misery  and  his  compan- 
ions to  Montfaucon — preserve  the  poverty,  the  reckless- 
ness, the  makeshift -life,  the  debts,  the  carousing  and 
singing,  the  wanderings  in  the  heart  of  Paris,  the  chats 
with  the  market-women  of  the  Halles,  and  the  troop  of 
comrades  all  subject  to  the  same  malady — 

"  Lack  of  money  is  grief  without  its  like." 

Then  read  the  story  of  the  struggles  of  those  two  poor 
scholars,  Amyot  and  Guillaume  Postel.  See  how  a 
pauper  managed  to  get  learning  :  mark  the  noble  enthu- 
siasm for  learning.  Graft  upon  the  turbulence  of  Villon 
the  ardour  of  Amyot, — and  you  have  the  history  which 
Rabelais  has  withheld  from  us  of  Panurge's  earlier  years. 
Panurge,  at  the  time  of  his  introduction  to  Panta- 
gruel,  was  of  a  middle  stature,  neither  too  great  nor  too 
little;  his  nose  was  slightly  aquiline,  made  like  the 
handle  of  a  razor;  he  was  about  five-and-thirty  years 
of  age :  a  gallant  and  proper  man  in  his  carriage.  He 
had  sixty -three  ways  of  finding  money  at  need.  Of 
these  his  favourite  method  was  some  way  of  secret  thiev- 
ing. "An  evil-doer,  a  cheat,  a  drinker,  a  vagabond,  a 
libertine  if  ever  there  was  one  in  Paris : " 

"  For  all  the  rest,  the  beat  son  in  the  world." 


100  RABELAIS. 

Besides  the  tricks  which  he  played  for  his  livelihood,  he 
was  continually  contriving  some  new  device  against  the 
sergeants  of  the  watch.  On  one  occasion  he  got  together 
three  or  four  rustics,  made  them  drink  like  Templars  in 
the  evening,  then  took  them  out  to  the  College  of  Na- 
varre, where  he  waited  till  the  watch  were  coming  up  the 
street.  Then  they  took  a  tumbrel  and  drove  it  as  hard 
as  they  could  down  the  hill,  so  that  the  poor  watch 
were  tumbled  over  each  other  like  pigs.  At  another 
time  he  laid  a  train  of  gunpowder  at  a  certain  place 
where  the  watch  were  to  pass,  firing  it  at  the  moment 
they  were  coming.  "  Thus  his  delight  was  to  see  their 
grace  in  running  away,  thinking  that  St  Anthony's  fire 
was  in  their  legs."  He  took  also  enormous  pleasure  in 
playing  tricks  upon  the  Masters  of  Arts  and  Doctors  of 
the  university,  into  whose  hoods  he  would  drop  loath- 
some and  evil -smelling  compounds.  He  loved  to  whip 
the  pages  whom  he  met  in  the  street  carrying  wine  to 
their  masters.  In  his  coat,  which  contained  six-and- 
twenty  little  pockets,  were  sharp  penknives  for  cut- 
ting purses;  bottles  of  verjuice,  which  he  threw  in 
people's  eyes ;  burs  stuck  with  goose-feathers,  which  he 
dropped  on  the  head  and  robes  of  honest  people ;  little 
horns  and  quills  full  of  fleas,  which  he  poured  down 
the  necks  of  young  ladies  as  they  knelt  in  church ; 
hooks  and  crochets,  with  which  he  secretly  hooked 
together  men  and  women  in  church,  especially  those 
who  were  well  dressed ;  squibs  with  tinder,  and  matches 
for  lighting  them;  burning-glasses  with  which  (always 
at  church)  he  drove  people  nearly  mad;  needle  and 
thread,  by  means  of  which  a  good  many  tricks  are 
possible ;  a  bottle  of  oil,  with  which  he  would  smear 


THE    CRAFT    OF    PANURGE.  101 

the  dresses  of  those  who  were  especially  well  dressed : 
and  powder,  with  which  he  made  ladies  sneeze  for  four 
hours  together  without  stopping,  a  thing  which  mightily 
amused  him. 

One  of  his  methods  of  getting  money  was  by  the 
purchase  of  indulgences.  These  could  only  be  obtained 
by  depositing  certain  alms  in  boxes  kept  in  the  churches 
for  the  purpose.  Panurge  piously  put  in  a  small  coin 
and  drew  out  a  great  one,  so  that  after  the  morning's 
round  among  the  churches  he  would  find  himself  in  pos 
session  of  "  ten  or  twelve "  little  bags  full  of  money. 
But  although  he  had  threescore  and  three  ways  of  find- 
ing money,  he  had  two  hundred  and  fourteen  of  spend- 
ing it,  so  that  he  was  continually  poor. 

Panurge  first  exhibits  that  craftiness  of  his,  which 
amounted  to  genius,  in  the  great  controversy  which  he 
maintained  with  the  English  philosopher,  who  disputed 
only  by  signs.  His  name  was  Thaumast,  "the  won- 
derful," and  he  had  left  England  and  his  friends  to  see 
Pantagruel,  after  the  example  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba, 
who  came  from  the  utmost  borders  of  the  East  to  see 
Solomon;  or  that  of  Anacharsis,  who  travelled  from 
Scythia  to  see  Solon ;  or  that  of  Plato,  who  went  to 
Egypt  to  see  the  Magicians;  or  that  of  Apollonius  of 
Tyana,  who  travelled  all  the  way  to  India  to  see  Hiar- 
chas;  or  those  many  studious  persons  who  came  to 
Rome  in  order  to  converse  with  Livy.  But  Thaumast 
proposed  not  only  to  confer,  but  to  dispute  with  Panta- 
gruel. For  the  first  and  only  time  that  accomplished 
prince  fell  into  a  serious  doubt  as  to  his  own  powers ; 
and  after  reading  all  the  books  carefully,  enumerated  by 
the  learned  author,  which  treat  of  signs,  be  consented"  to 


102  RABELAIS. 

Panurge's  advice,  and  intrusted  the  conduct  of  the  con- 
test much  to  him. 

The  story  is  not  new — little  except  Panurge,  Friar 
John,  Pantagruel,  and  the  Divine  Bottle  is  new  in 
Rabelais — but  it  is  told  in  the  best  style  of  the  author. 
The  disputants  are  not  to  speak.  They  begin,  at  least 
Thaumast  begins,  by  a  solemn  asseveration  that  his  de- 
sire is  not  to  dispute  contentiously,  but  solely  to  resolve 
doubts  and  to  pursue  truth. 

"  Everybody  then  taking  heed,  in  great  silence,  the  Eng- 
lishman lifted  his  two  hands  separately,  clenching  the  ends 
of  his  fingers  in  the  form  that  at  Chinon  they  call  the  fowl's 
tail.  Then  he  struck  them  together  by  the  nails  four  times. 
Then  he  opened  them  and  struck  one  flat  upon  the  other 
with  a  clash  once  ;  after  which,  joining  them  as  above,  he 
struck  twice,  and  four  times  afterwards  on  opening  them. 
Then  he  placed  them,  joined  and  extended,  the  one  above 
the  other,  seeming  to  pray  God  devoutly. 

"  Panurge  suddenly  moved  his  right  hand  in  the  air, 
placed  the  right-hand  thumb  at  the  right-hand  nostril,  hold- 
ing the  four  fingers  stretched  out  and  arrayed  in  parallel 
lines  with  the  point  of  the  nose,1  shutting  the  left  eye  en- 
tirely, and  winking  with  the  right,  making  a  profound  de- 
pression with  eyebrow  and  eyelid.  Next,  he  raised  aloft  the 
left  with  a  strong  clenching  and  extension  of  the  four  fingers 
and  elevation  of  the  thumb,  and  held  it  in  line  directly 
corresponding  with  the  position  of  the  right,  the  distance 
between  the  two  being  a  cubit  and  a  half.  This  done,  in  the 
like  manner  he  lowered  towards  the  ground  both  hands,  and 
finally  held  them  in  the  midst  as  if  aiming  straight  at  the 
Englishman's  nose.  '  And  if  Mercury,'  said  the  Englishman. 
1  You  have  spoken,  mask/  cried  Panurge." 

1  "  Estenduz  et  serrez  par  leur  ordre  en  ligne  parallele  a  la  pinnti 
du  nez."  This  is  difficult  to  understand.  Rabelais  means,  jterhaps, 
that- the  line  formed  by  joining  the  tips  of  the  three  last  fingers 
was  par^lkl  with  tbe  >ii\e  ,of  the  nose. 


THAUMAST.  103 

We  need  not  follow  in  further  detail  the  steps  of  this 
wonderful  controversy,  in  which  all  that  the  outsiders 
understood  was,  that  for  every  sign  exhibited  by  Thau- 
mast,  Panurge  had  another  more  complex  and  more 
mystic.  The  Englishman  at  last  confesses  himself 
beaten. 

"  My  lords,  well  may  I  now  utter  the  words  of  the  Gos- 
pel, '  Et  ecce  plusquam  Salomon  hie!'  You  have  here  an  in- 
comparable treasure  before  you,  in  the  person  of  the  Lord 
Pantagruel,  whose  renown  has  drawn  me  from  the  very  end 
of  England  to  confer  with  him  on  certain  insoluble  problems, 
whether  of  magic,  alchemy,  cabala,  geomancy,  and  philo- 
sophy. But  at  present  I  am  indignant  with  renown,  which 
seems  to  me  envious  against  him,  for  it  does  not  report  the 
thousandth  part  of  the  worth  that  is  in  him.  You  have  seen 
how  his  disciple  alone  has  contented  me,  and  has  told  me 
more  than  I  asked  ;  he  has  opened  up  to  me  abundantly,  and 
at  the  same  time  solved,  other  iD  estimable  doubts.  In  which, 
I  can  assure  you,  that  he  has  disclosed  the  true  well  and 
abyss  of  an  encyclopaedia,  and  that  in  a  way  of  which  I 
thought  I  should  never  find  a  man  who  knew  the  first  ele- 
ments— namely,  when  one  disputed  by  signs  without  saying 
a  word  or  half  a  word.  But  presently  I  shall  write  down  all 
that  we  have  said  and  resolved,  so  that  it  may  not  be  thought 
that  we  have  been  fooling.  And  you  may  judge  what  the 
master  would  have  been,  seeing  that  the  disciple  has  dis- 
played such  powers.  Car  non  est  discipulus  super  magistrum. 
.  .  .  On  departing  from  there,  Pantagruel  took  Thaumast  to 
dine  with  him.  And  you  may  believe  that  they  drank  un- 
buttoned. Blessed  lady  !  how  they  drank  !  And  the  flagons 
went,  and  they  called  out,  '  Draw,  give,  page,  wine,  reach,  in 
the  devil's  name,  reach.'  Not  one  but  drank  twenty  or  thirty 
hogsheads.  And  do  you  know  how  1  Sicut  terra  sine  aqua  ; 
for  it  was  summer  weather,  and  all  the  more  were  they 
thirsty.  With  regard  to  the  exposition  of  the  propositions 
advanced  by  Thaumast,  and  the  signification  of  the  signs 


104  KABELAIS. 

which  they  used  in  disputing,  I  would  set  that  forth  accord- 
ing to  their  relation  the  one  to  the  other  ;  but  they  tell  me 
that  Thaumast  has  printed  a  great  book  in  London,  wherein 
he  explains  the  whole,  leaving  nothing  omitted." 

Such,  certain  details  omitted,  is  Panurge  in  the  First 
Book  of  Pantagruel.  When,  thirteen  years  later,  the 
author  again  takes  up  the  character,  we  find  him  still 
consistent  with  his  first  conception.  Panurge  in  the  last 
three  books  is  the  same  as  in  the  first.  The  figure  of 
Pantagruel  loses  almost  altogether  its  gigantic  proportions, 
and  assumes  the  likeness  of  a  great  and  wise  king.  Friar 
John,  lightly  sketched  in  "  Gargantua,"  becomes  human. 
New  characters  are  introduced.  Panurge  alone  remains 
the  same,  only  the  hand  of  the  limner  is  firmer,  the  features 
of  his  creation  are  clearer,  the  figure  more  distinct.  Such 
as  he  was  at  the  beginning,  and  as  we  have  drawn  him 
from  the  first  account,  so  he  remains.  What  the  author 
intended  to  delineate  we  will  consider  in  the  last  chapter. 

Let  us  now  continue  the  history  as  given  in  the  Third 
Book. 

While  Pantagruel  was  arranging  for  the  government 
of  his  newly  conquered  territory,  Dipsodie,  he  made 
Panurge  Lord  of  Salmigondin,  an  estate  producing  a  rev- 
enue of  6,789,106,789  royals  certain,  besides  a  varying 
income  arising  from  periwinkles  and  locusts,  which  might 
amount  to  2,435,768  or  2,435,769  gol&moutons  every  year. 

Panurge  at  once  began  to  dissipate  and  spend  this 
princely  property,  insomuch  that  within  fourteen  days  he 
had  squandered  the  whole  revenue  for  the  next  three  whole 
years.  He  built  no  monasteries,  founded  no  colleges, 
endowed  no  hospitals,  he  simply  threw  it  all  away  in 
feasting,  cutting  down  woods,  burning  great  trunks  for 


THE    PRAISE    OF    DEBT.  105 

the  sake  of  the  timber,  borrowing  money,  buying  dear, 
selling  cheap,  and  eating  his  corn  in  the  blade.  In 
fourteen  days — a  short  fortnight — he  wasted  three  years' 
revenue !     Was  there  ever  such  splendid  prodigality  % 

Pantagruel,  advised  of  this  extravagance,  gently  re- 
monstrates with  his  follower,  and  tells  him  that  if  he 
continues  to  live  at  this  rate  it  will  be  impossible,  or  at 
least  extremely  difficult,  to  make  him  rich.  "  Rich  ! "  cries 
Panurge.  "  Was  that  your  intention?  Have  you  taken 
thought  how  to  make  me  rich  in  this  world  1  Think  to  live 
joyously.  Let  no  other  care,  no  other  thought  be  received 
in  the  sanctosacred  domicile  of  your  celestial  brain.  .  .  . 
As  for  economy,  everybody  talks  about  it,  but  few  know 
what  it  is."  He  goes  on  to  defend  his  spendthrift  habits, 
it  is  prudence,  he  says,  to  borrow,  because  who  knows 
how  long  the  world  will  last  1  It  is  an  act  of  commu- 
tative justice  to  buy  dear,  on  credit  —  and  sell  cheap, 
for  ready  money.  It  is  an  act  of  distributive  justice 
to  provide  feasts  and  entertainments  for  young  people. 
It  is  an  act  of  fortitude  to  cut  down  great  forests,  the 
dens  and  strongholds  of  wolves  and  wild  beasts,  brigands 
and  murderers.  It  is  an  act  of  temperance  to  eat  the 
corn  while  it  is  still  in  the  blade.  As  for  being  out  of 
debt,  that  will  come  with  the  Greek  calends.  Then 
follows  the  famous  eulogy  of  debt,  the  most  eloquent 
speech  of  all  those  made  by  Panurge,  and  the  one  in 
greatest  harmony  with  his  character. 

"  The  Lord  forbid  that  I  should  be  out  of  debt !  After  that, 
indeed,  I  should  find  no  one  to  lend  me  a  penny.  Do  you 
continually  owe  money  to  somebody.  By  him  will  God  be 
always  prayed  to  grant  you  a  good,  long,  and  happy  life ; 
and  fearing  to  lose  his  debt,  he  will  always  speak  well  of  yon 


106  BABELAIS. 

in  every  company,  will  continually  acquire  for  you  new 
creditors,  so  that  by  them  you  may  make  payment,  and  with 
other  people's  earth  you  may  fill  up  his  ditch.  When  of 
old,  in  Gaul,  by  the  institution  of  the  Druids,  the  servants, 
slaves,  and  bondsmen  were  all  burned  alive  at  the  funerals 
and  obsequies  of  their  lords  and  masters,  had  they  not  fear 
enough  that  their  lords  and  masters  should  die  ?  For,  per- 
force, they  were  to  die  with  them.  Believe  me,  your  credi- 
tors, with  a  still  more  fervent  devotion,  will  beseech  the  Lord 
that  you  may  live,  and  will  fear  that  you  may  die.  .  .  . 
Dea !  in  this  one  respect  [of  debts]  I  esteem  myself  worship- 
ful, reverend,  and  formidable.  For,  against  the  opinion  of 
all  philosophers  who  say  that  out  of  nothing  ariseth  nothing, 
I,  having  nothing,  nor  any  primary  matter,  have  become 
a  maker  and  creator.  What  have  I  created? — so  many  fair 
and  jolly  creditors.  .  .  .  Think  you  how  glad  I  am 
when  every  morning  I  find  myself  surrounded  by  these 
creditors,  so  humble,  so  serviceable,  and  so  copious  of 
reverences.  And  I  note  how,  if  I  bestow  a  more  cheerful 
countenance  to  one  than  to  another,  the  rascal  thereupon 
thinks  that  he  will  be  the  first  despatched,  and  valueth  my 
smiles  at  the  rate  of  ready  money.  ...  I  have  all  my 
lifetime  held  debt  to  be  as  an  union  and  bond  of  the  heavens 
with  the  earth,  an  unique  cement  of  the  human  race ;  yea,  of 
such  efficacy,  that  the  whole  human  race  would  perish  with- 
out it." 

He  goes  on  to  represent  a  world  in  which  there  should 
be  no  debts  and  no  debtors.  It  is  a  fine  and  striking 
picture  of  the  interdependence  of  all  things  in  the 
universe.  The  planets  will  no  longer  follow  their 
courses.  Jupiter,  in  no  way  connected  with  Saturn,  will 
thrust  him  out  of  his  place ;  Saturn  and  Mars  will  unite 
and  throw  everything  into  confusion ;  Mercury,  beholden 
to  no  one,  will  cease  to  serve  any ;  Venus  will  no  longer 
lend,  and   therefore   will    cease   to   he   venerated  ;    the 


UNIVERSAL    DEBT.  107 

moon  will  remain  dark — why  should  the  sun  lend  her 
his  light,  or  the  earth  his  heat  1  The  stars,  which  will 
no  longer  he  fed  with  exhalations — "  proved  hy  Hera- 
clitus,  the  Stoics,  and  Cicero  to  he  their  natural  nourish- 
ment"— will  cease  to  rain  their  friendly  influence  upon 
mankind ;  water  will  not  he  made  of  the  earth ;  the  air 
shall  not  be  made  of  water ;  fire  shall  not  he  made  of 
air.  There  shall  he  no  rain,  no  light,  no  seasons,  no 
wind.  As  for  mankind,  the  earth  will  be  no  better  than 
a  vast  dog-kennel ;  one  man  will  not  salute  another ;  one 
man  will  not  help  another — why  should  he  %  nobody  has 
lent  him  money.  Faith,  hope,  charity,  will  be  banished 
— men  will  become  as  wolves. 

On  the  other  hand,  let  us  consider  what  sort  of  a  world 
would  that  be  in  which  every  one  lends  and  every  one 
borrows. 

"Oh,  what  harmony  will  there  be  among  the  regular 
motions  of  the  skies !  Methinks  I  hear  it  as  well  as  ever 
Plato  did.  What  sympathy  between  the  elements !  How 
Nature  will  delight  in  her  works  and  productions!  Ceres 
charged  with  wheat,  Bacchus  with  wine,  Flora  with  flowers, 
Pomona  with  fruits,  Juno  with  her  serene,  healthful,  and 
delightful  air.  I  am  lost  in  the  contemplation.  Among 
men,  peace,  love,  affection,  fidelity,  repose,  banquets,  feast- 
ing, joy,  gladness,  gold,  silver,  small  money,  chains,  rings, 
merchandise  will  run  from  hand  to  hand.  No  lawsuits,  no 
war,  no  contention ;  none  will  be  usurer  there,  none  miserly, 
none  frugal,  none  refusing  to  lend.  Great  heavens  !  will  it 
not  be  the  age  of  gold — the  Saturnian  reign  ?  the  idea  of 
the  Olympic  regions,  in  which  all  other  virtues  cease,  charity 
alone  reigns,  rules,  dominates,  and  triumphs  ?  All  shall  be 
good,  all  shall  be  fair,  all  shall  be  just.  0  happy  world!  O 
folk  of  the  happy  world — 0  twice,  thrice,  and  four  times 
happy!     Methinks  I  am  already  there.* 


108  RABELAIS. 

And  then  he  shows,  speaking  as  a  physician  and  an 
anatomist,  how  in  the  microcosm — the  little  world  of  the 
human  body — all  the  members  work  for  each  other,  one 
to  the  other  looking  for  support  and  sustenance,  and  this 
in  no  niggardly  spirit,  but  joyfully  and  eagerly.  No 
doubt,  as  in  his  astronomy  so  in  his  anatomy,  modern 
science  finds  Rabelais  in  error.  Yet  the  leading  thought 
is  just  and  true,  and  to  his  generation,  at  least,  it  was 
new. 

"  Nature  hath  created  man  only  for  lending  and  borrow- 
ing :  the  harmony  of  the  skies  is  no  greater  than  that  of  her 
own  governance.  The  intention  of  the  founder  of  this 
microcosm  is  to  entertain  in  it  the  soul,  which  has  been 
placed  in  the  body  as  guest,  and  the  life.  The  life  consists 
in  the  blood :  blood  is  the  seat  of  the  soul ;  wherefore  one 
labour  alone  exercises  the  world — namely,  to  make  blood 
continually.  In  this  forge  all  the  members  are  in  their  own 
office,  and  their  hierarchy  is  such  that  incessantly  one  bor- 
rows from  the  other,  one  lends  to  the  other,  one  is  debtor  to 
the  other.  The  material  suitable  to  be  transmuted  into 
blood  is  given  by  nature  :  it  is  bread  and  wine.  All  kinds 
of  aliment  are  comprised  in  these  two.  To  procure  them,  to 
prepare  them,  to  cook  them,  the  hands  toil,  the  feet  walk, 
and  carry  the  whole  machine.  The  eyes  lead  all ;  the  appe- 
tite gives  warning  to  administer  the  food  ;  the  tongue  tries 
it ;  the  teeth  chew  it ;  the  stomach  receives  and  digests  it. 
What  joy,  think  you,  exists  among  these  officers  when  they 
see  this  rivulet  of  gold,  this  blood,  which  is  others'  sole 
maintenance  1  No  greater  is  the  joy  of  alchemists  when, 
after  long  labours,  great  care  and  expenses,  they  see  the 
metals  transmuted  in  their  furnaces.  .  .  .  Vertuguoy !  I 
drown,  I  am  lost,  I  stray,  when  I  enter  into  the  profound 
abyss  of  this  world,  always  lending,  always  owing.  Believe 
that  it  is  a  divine  thing  to  lend,  an  heroic  virtue  to  owe." 

It  is  characteristic  of  Rabelais  to  find  this  solid  and 


THE  METHOD  OF  RABELAIS.        109 

serious  teaching  rising  out  of  the  fact  that  Panurge  is 
a  spendthrift.  It  is  equally  characteristic  that  such  a 
discourse  is  inconsistent  with  the  other  sayings  and 
doings  of  the  speaker.  In  the  same  way  Friar  John,  the 
burly,  ignorant  monk,  was  permitted  to  be  the  founder 
of  the  glorious  Abbey  of  Thelema. 

The  chapters  on  debt  illustrate  the  parable  in  the  pro- 
logue to  "  Gargantua"  (p.  53).  The  writer  has  a  thought ; 
he  does  not  state  it  in  so  many  words — that  is  not  his 
plan — he  looks  at  it  from  different  points  of  view,  plays 
with  it,  decorates  it  with  all  possible  illustrations  of 
classical  learning,  science,  and  playful  fancy,  and  leaves 
it  as  a  riddle  to  be  guessed  by  his  readers.  There  is  no 
great  difficulty  in  guessing  his  riddles.  Just  as  the 
planets  rule  and  depend  upon  each  other,  and  by  this 
dependence  the  cosmic  order  is  maintained ;  just  as  the 
organs  of  the  body  depend  upon  each  other,  and  by  this 
dependence  life  is  preserved, — so  men,  in  the  social  world, 
depend  each  upon  the  other,  and  owe  their  lives,  their 
wealth,  their  service,  to  the  sacred  cause  of  humanity. 
Did  Comte  teach  more  1  Yet  the  beauty  and  excellence 
of  Eabelais  must  be  judged  in  reference  to  the  time. 
The  chapters  on  debt  and  interdependence,  not  even 
now  commonplace,  were  as  fresh  and  sweet  to  his  con- 
temporaries, weary  with  the  controversies  and  confusions 
of  the  time,  as  a  draught  of  cold  water  to  a  traveller  in 
the  desert. 

The  discourse  on  debt  finished,  we  at  once  proceed  to 
the  great  question,  in  the  solution  of  which  the  rest  of 
the  book  is  almost  entirely  occupied.  It  is  a  question 
which,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  involves  far  more  than 
is  at  first  eight  apparent,  for  it  is,  in  this  beginning, 


110  RABELAIS. 

only  a  doubt  into  which  Panurge  falls,  as  to  whether  he 
shall  marry. 

He  began  by  fretting  over  the  loss  of  his  debts,  which, 
we  are  told,  were  all  paid  off,  and  one  day  presented 
himself  before  Pantagruel  in  a  complete  change  of 
costume.  He  now  wore  a  long  plain  gown,  of  coarse 
brown  cloth.  He  had  assumed  an  ear-ring  in  which, 
instead  of  a  jewel,  was  a  black  flea,  richly  set  and 
encased;  and  he  had  tied,  after  the  fashion  of  certain 
lawyers  and  doctors,  a  pair  of  spectacles  to  his  cap.  He 
explains  that,  as  he  is  now  out  of  debt,  he  intends  to  be 
as  unpleasing  in  outward  appearance  as  he  possibly  can 
be.  His  long  coat,  made  after  the  fashion  of  a  toga,  and 
copied  from  the  sculptures  in  Trajan's  column,  means 
that  he  longs  to  be  at  rest,  and  that  he  is  weary  of  buff 
coats  and  the  carrying  of  arms.  And  having  donned 
the  garb  of  peace,  he  inclines  to  take  a  wife. 

" '  My  lord/  said  Panurge,  with  a  profound  sigh,  '  you 
have  now  heard  my  deliberation,  which  is  about  marriage. 
I  beseech  you,  for  the  affection  which  you  have  for  a  long 
time  borne  me,  give  me  your  advice  thereupon.' 

"  '  Then,'  answered  Pantagruel, '  seeing  you  have  so  decreed 
and  taken  deliberation  upon  it,  there  is  no  need  of  any  further 
talk.     Remains  only  to  put  it  into  execution.' 

" '  Yea  but,'  quoth  Panurge,  *  I  would  be  loath  to  act  in 
the  matter  without  your  counsel.' 

" '  It  is  my  judgment  also,'  said  Pantagruel, '  and  I  advise 
you  to  it.' 

" '  Nevertheless,'  said  Panurge,  '  if  you  thought  that  my 
better  plan  were  to  remain  as  I  am,  without  undertaking 
cases  of  novelty,  I  should  like  better  not  to  marry.' 

"  Said  Pantagruel,  '  Then  do  not  marry.' 

" '  Nay,'  continued  Panurge, '  would  you  have  me  to  remain 


MARRY    OR    NOT    MARRY?  Ill 

lonely  as  I  am  all  my  life  without  conjugal  company?  You 
know  it  is  written  Vce  soli! — a  single  person  never  has  such 
solace  as  one  sees  between  married  folks.' 

" *  Then  marry,  in  the  name  of  God,'  3aid  Pantagruel !" 

This  pleasantry  is  imitated  from  half-a-dozen  different 
forms  of  the  same  story.  It  is  found  in  one  form  among 
the  stories  of  Poggio,  and  another  in  a  sermon  of  the 
preacher  Raulin,  and  since  the  time  of  Rabelais  it  has 
been  repeatedly  recast,  especially  by  Moliere  in  the 
"Mariage  Force"  and  by  Colin  d'Harleville. 

"  Give  me  your  counsel,  I  pray, 

On  a  difficult  point  to  decide : 

I  think,  but  with  doubt,  about  taking  a  bride : 
Shall  I  marry  her — yea  or  nay  ? 
'Good  gossip,  my  counsel  is — yea.' 

But  suppose  that  the  wife — as  she  may — 
Should  turn  out  a  scold  or  a  shrew : 
One  would  rage  then — but  what  else  to  do  ? 

Advise  me,  my  friend,  the  best  way. 

*  Good  gossip,  my  counsel  is — nay. 


>» 


Panurge  complains  that  this  kind  of  advice  does  not 
advance  his  decision.  Then  Pantagruel  suggests  that 
recourse  should  be  had  to  the  sortes  VirgiUance}  and  in 
support  of  this  counsel  enumerates  a  long  list  of  leading 
eases  in  which  this  kind  of  oracle  is  proved  to  have 
foreshadowed  the  future  in  a  very  remarkable  manner. 
The  most  striking  are  the  stories  of  Alexander  Severus, 
who,  trying  his  fortune  at  the  lottery,  chanced  upon  the 
line — 

"  Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Komane,  memento  :  " 
and  that  of  Pierre  Amy,  the  ex-monk  of  Fontenay,  who, 


112  KABELAIS. 

with  Kabelais,  as  we  have  seen,  was  encouraged  to  escape 
from  the  cloister  by  reading  the  line — 

u  Heu  !  fuge  crudeles  terras,  fuge  littus  a  varum." 

They  threw  their  dice  in  order  to  find  what  line  in  the 
page  to  take.  The  dice  gave  the  numbers  five,  six,  and 
five,  which  made  sixteen  in  all.  Accordingly  they  open 
the  book  at  random  and  take  the  sixteenth  line  :  it  is — 

"  Nee  Deus  hunc  mensa,  Dea  nee  dignata  cubile  est." 

This  verse  is  interpreted  by  Pantagruel  and  Panurge  in 
a  manner  wholly  opposite.  Not  being  able  to  agree, 
they  consult  the  oracle  a  second  time  and  read — 

"  Membra  quatit,  gelidusque  coit  formidine  sanguis." 

Pantagruel  interprets  the  ominous  prophecy  of  the 
husband,  that  his  wife  will  beat  him ;  Panurge,  of  the 
wife,  that  the  husband  will  cudgel  her  if  she  vex  him. 
Then  a  third  time  thev  consult  the  book  : — 

"  Fcemineo  pradae,  et  spolioruni  ardebat  amore." 

"This  portends,"  said  Pantagruel,  "that  she  will  steal 
your  goods  and  rob  you.  Hence,  according  to  the  three 
lots,  will  be  your  foolish  destiny :  your  wife  will  be 
unfaithful  to  you,  you  will  be  beaten,  and  you  will  be 
robbed."  Panurge,  on  the  other  hand,  reads  the  oracles 
in  an  entirely  opposite  sense.  Seeing  that  they  cannot 
agree  on  the  interpretration  of  the  sortes  Virgilianoe, 
Pantagruel  advises  divination  by  dreams,  as  a  thing 
sanctioned  by  high  authorities.  And  here  for  the  first 
lime  we  observe  that  Friar  John  is  one  of  the  company 
of  Pantagruel.  He  is  not  introduced :  we  are  not  told 
when   he   left   the   service    of   Gargantua;    the    author 


THE    SIBYL.  113 

merely  remembers  him,  and  makes  him  break  into  the 
conversation. 

Panurge  dreams  that  he  has  married  a  charming  and 
beautiful  wife,  with  whom  his  joy  was  incomparable. 
But  while  she  flattered  and  caressed  him,  kissing  him, 
and  laying  her  hands  upon  his  neck,  she  made  pretty 
little  horns  upon  his  forehead,  taking  great  pains  to  fix 
them  there,  as  he  remembered;  and  then  the  dream 
changed,  and  he  became  a  tabor  and  she  an  owl. 

Panurge  himself  interprets  this  dream  to  signify  that 
by  his  marriage  he  will  be  furnished  with  plenty  of  all 
manner  of  goods.  A  different  interpretation,  which  may 
easily  be  guessed,  is  adopted  by  his  friends. 

The  Sibyl  of  Panzoust  (a  parish  in  Poitiers)  is  next 
consulted,  with  an  equally  vague  and  uncertain  result. 
Every  oracle  in  turn  gives  rise  to  a  profusion  of  illustra- 
tions, anecdotes,  and  classical  quotations.  After  the 
Sibyl  follows  divination  by  means  of  a  deaf  and  dumb 
man,  Naz-de-cabre  by  name.  This  is  a  reminiscence  of 
Thaumast.  The  description  of  signs  in  which  one  can 
discern  no  meaning  is  tedious.  Perhaps  a  dying  poet — 
poets,  we  are  told,  generally  become  prophets  when  they 
draw  near  their  latter  end — may  throw  some  light  upon 
Panurge's  future.  And  here  Rabelais,  after  his  fashion, 
becomes  in  the  midst  of  his  maddest  vein  grave  and 
serious : — 

"  For  as  we,  being  upon  a  pier,  and  seeing  afar  off  mariners 
and  other  travellers  upon  the  ships  on  the  high  seas,  consider 
them  in  silence  only,  and  pray  for  their  prosperous  arrival ; 
but  when  they  approach  the  haven,  then  both  with  words 
and  gestures  we  salute  and  congratulate  them  because  they 
have  arrived,  as  we  ourselvep,  to  a  port  of  safety.     Just  so  the 

F.C. — VIII.  H 


114  RABELAIS. 

angels,  heroes,  and  good  demons,  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
the  Platonics,  when  they  see  mortals  near  unto  death,  as  to  a 
sure  and  salutary  port,  a  port  of  repose  and  tranquillity, 
beyond  the  troubles  and  solicitudes  of  the  world,  salute 
them,  console  them,  speak  with  them,  and  begin  to  com- 
municate unto  them  the  art  of  divination.  .  .  .  Let  me 
only  commemorate  the  learned  and  valiant  knight,  Guillaume 
du  Bellay,  late  Seigneur  of  Langey,  who  died  at  the  Mount 
of  Tarara  in  the  climacteric,  or  63d  year  of  his  age,  on 
the  10th  of  January  1543.  The  three  or  four  hours  before 
his  decease  he  spent  in  vigorous  speech,  in  tranquil  and 
serene  judgment,  foretelling  what  we  have  since  seen  in  part, 
and  in  part  expect  to  arrive.  Yet  how  absurd  and  strange 
seemed  his  prophecies  at  that  time  because  there  appeared 
no  cause  or  any  prognostic  sign  of  what  he  predicted." 

There  chanced  at  the  time  that  one  Raminagrobis, 
a  poet,  well  stricken  in  years,  lay  a-dying.  To  him 
Panurge,  accompanied  by  Epistemon  and  Friar  John, 
repaired  in  haste.  The  poet,  like  the  other  oracles,  gave 
forth  a  doubtful  response  in  the  words  of  a  rondeau  equi- 
voque, which  Rabelais  appropriates  from  the  poems  of 
Guillaume  Cretin.  The  good  old  bard,  who  is  thinking 
of  anything  rather  than  of  marriage,  dismisses  his  visitors 
with  words  of  solemn  caution  against  priests  and  monks. 
Rabelais  is  serious  again  in  the  presence  of  Death  the 
Conqueror : — 

• 
"  Go,  my  sons,  under  the  care  of  the  Great  God  of  the 

Heavens,  and  let  me  be  troubled  no  more  with  this  affair,  nor 

with  any  other.     I  have  this  day,  being  the  last  of  May  and 

of  myself,  turned  out  of  my  house  with  great  fatigue  and 

difficulty  a  heap  of  villanous,  unclean,  and  pestilent  beasts, 

black,  variegated,  dun,  white,  ash-coloured  and  spotted,  who 

would  not  let  me  die  at  my  ease,  but  called  me  away  from 

the  sweet  meditation  in  which  I  was  reposing,  contemplating, 


RAM1NAGR0BIS.  115 

seeing,  and  already  touching  and  tasting  the  happiness  and 
felicity  which  the  good  God  has  prepared  for  His  faithful 
and  elect  in  the  other  life  and  state  of  immortality.  Turn 
aside  from  their  path ;  be  not  like  unto  them." 

Never  was  writer  more  full  of  incongruities.  We 
have  this  speech  of  the  dying  poet  in  which  the  author, 
not  for  the  first  time,  pours  out  his  ill-restrained  hatred 
of  priests  and  monks,  between  two  pages  of  the  wild- 
est extravagance.  Panurge,  partly  perhaps  because  the 
words  of  the  poet  were  too  plain  and  easy  to  be  read, 
manifests  the  most  lively  indignation  at  such  an  attack 
on  the  props  and  pillars  of  the  Church.  He  is  always, 
however,  orthodox,  as  becomes  so  great  a  sinner.  Episte- 
mon,  for  his  part,  smooths  and  explains  away  the  speech. 
The  poet,  he  says,  was  very  far  indeed  from  meaning  to 
attack  the  mendicant  friars  and  monks.  He  was  simply 
execrating  flies,  wasps,  fleas,  and  other  vermin.  But 
Panurge  knows  better.  He  gets,  however,  small  comfort, 
or  encouragement  from  the  rimes  equivoques  of  poor  old 
Raminagrobis,  and  turns  in  despair  at  the  failure  of  so 
many  oracles  to  his  friend  Epistemon,  who  enumerates 
with  great  show  of  learning  the  oracles  frequented  by  the 
ancients,  and  laments  that  they  have  all  grown  dumb. 

"  But,"  says  Panurge,  "  in  the  Ogygian  islands  Saturn, 
bound  with  fair  chains  of  gold,  dwells  within  a  rock  of 
gold,  nourished  with  divine  ambrosia  and  nectar  brought 
daily  from  the  heavens  by  birds — presumably  the  same 
ravens"  —  Panurge  is  not  strong  in  early  Christian 
history — "  which  sustained  St  Paul,  the  first  hermit,  in 
the  wilderness.  He  foretells  to  every  one  what  his  lot 
will  be.  Let  us  go  to  him."  But  Epistemon  is  of 
opinion  that  the  thing  is  a  manifest  fable,  and  suggests 


116  RABELAIS. 

that  Herr  Trippa,  the  greatest  living  professor  of  astro- 
logy, geomancy,  chiromancy,  and  other  like  sciences,  is 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  might  be  consulted. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Rabelais  in  Herr  Trippa 
has  Cornelius  Agrippa  von  Netterheim  in  his  mind.  Not 
that  Herr  Trippa  is  absolutely  identical  with  Cornelius. 
As  well  think  that  the  physician  of  the  fiction,  Eondibilis, 
later  on,  is  identical  with  the  real  physician  Rondelet ;  but 
the  name  suggests  a  comparison  which,  in  a  few  points, 
will  be  found  to  hold  good.  Cornelius  Agrippa,  Professor 
of  Hebrew,  theology,  philosophy,  medicine,  astrology, 
magic,  and  many  other  things,  the  author  of  the  work 
on  the  '  Vanity  of  Human  Science,'  the  friend  of  Luthei 
and  Melancthon,  who  yet  was  never  a  professed  Pro- 
testant, might  fairly  be  compared,  point  for  point,  with 
Rabelais.  He  was  more  learned,  but  there  were  subjects 
in  which  Rabelais  was  greater  than  he.  Agrippa  under- 
stood astrology — which  included  a  great  deal  more  than 
the  calculations  of  nativities — but  Rabelais  was  a  better 
anatomist.  He  was  a  reader  of  natural  science,  but 
Rabelais  was  a  better  botanist.  He  was  a  Hebraist,  but 
Rabelais  had  read  more  Greek.  Like  Rabelais,  he  led  a 
wandering  life ;  like  him,  he  was  dependent  on  patrons' 
wealth.  Rabelais  and  Agrippa  failed  to  secure  adequate 
support,  and  died  in  comparative  poverty.  They  were 
born  within  three  years  of  each  other,  but  Agrippa  died 
in  1535,  eleven  years  before  this  book  was  published. 
The  dates  of  Agrippa's  employments  —  he  entered  the 
service  of  Margaret  of  Austria  in  1528,  while  Rabelais 
was  still  an  unknown  student  at  Liguge — prevent  us  from 
supposing  the  two  men  to  have  been  friends,  acquaint- 
ances, or  rivals ;  but  he  occupied  during  his  life  a  much 


HERR    TRIPPA.  117 

greater  place  in  men's  thoughts  than  Eabelais  as  yet  had 
gained,  though  he  has  now  become  a  mere  name  and 
shadow  of  a  name.  His  character  has  been  summed 
up  in  the  words,  "  Contemnit,  scit,  nescit,  deftet,  ridet, 
irascitur,  insectatur,  carpit  omnia,  ipse  philosophus, 
daemon,  heros,  deus  et  omnia." 

Panurge  then  pays  a  visit  to  Herr  Trippa.  The 
philosopher's  first  conclusion,  from  an  examination  of 
the  face  and  hand,  was  portentously  unfavourable  to 
married  happiness.  This  conclusion  was  confirmed  by 
an  appeal  to  the  planets ;  whereupon,  Panurge  taking  this 
kind  of  prophecy  with  an  ill  grace,  not  to  say  with 
temper,  Herr  Trippa  proceeded  to  offer  him  any  other 
kind  of  divinations  he  might  prefer.  This  is  another 
opportunity  for  Eabelais  to  show  his  learning.  He 
knows  all  the  superstitions  of  all  ages,  and  proceeds  to 
enumerate  them  with  the  contempt  of  a  physicist,  and  the 
joy  of  a  scholar  who  has  found  out  such  an  opportunity 
of  displaying  his  knowledge.  Among  them  are  pyro- 
mancy, or  divination  by  fire ;  aeromancy,  by  air ;  hydro- 
mancy,  by  water ;  lecanomancy,  by  inspection  of  a  dish ; 
catoptromancy,  by  looking  into  a  mirror ;  coscinomancy, 
by  a  sieve — "  with  a  sieve  and  a  pair  of  scissors  you  shall 
see  devils ; "  alphitomancy,  by  barley ;  aleuromancy,  by 
flour ;  astragalomancy,  by  knuckle -bones;  tiromancy, 
by  cheese ;  giromancy,  by  circles ;  sternomancy,  by  the 
breast;  libanomancy,  by  frankincense;  gastromancy,  or 
ventriloquism;  cephalomancy,  by  roasting  the  head  of 
an  ass  on  burning  coal ;  ceromancy,  by  the  dropping  of 
wax  into  water ;  capnomancy,  by  smoke ;  axinomancy, 
by  the  throwing  of  the  axe;  onymancy,  by  the  finger- 
nail— "  but  you  must  have  oil  and  wine  ;"  tephramancy, 


118  RABELAIS. 

by  ashes  ;  botanomancy,  by  plants — "  I  have  here  some 
sage-leaves  which  will  do  for  us " — sicomancy,  by  fig- 
leaves;  ichthyomancy,  by  fish;  choiromancy,  by  pigs; 
cleromancy,  by  the  bean ;  anthropomancy,  by  inspection 
of  human  entrails ;  sibylline  stichomancy,  by  the  verses 
of  sibyls;  onomatomancy,  by  the  letters  of  the  name; 
alectryomancy,  by  the  cock. 

"  I  shall  draw  a  circle  here,  and  shall  divide  it  in  your 
sight  into  four-and-twenty  equal  portions.  Upon  each  one 
I  shall  draw  a  letter  of  the  alphabet ;  in  each  letter  I  shall 
place  a  grain  of  barley ;  then  I  shall  let  go  a  young  cock 
across  the  circle.  You  will  see,  believe  me,  that  he  will  eat 
up  the  grains  upon  the  letters  so  as  to  declare  the  future  in 
the  married  state  as  prophetically  as  happened  under  the 
Emperor  Valens  when  he  was  in  perplexity  to  know  the 
name  of  his  successor,  for  the  foreseeing  and  alectryomantic 
cock  spelt  out  for  him  the  letters  e.E.O.A.  Would  you  like 
te  know  the  future  by  the  art  of  aruspicium,  or  that  of  ex- 
tispicium — by  augury,  by  the  flight  of  birds,  by  the  song  of 
divining  birds,  by  the  movements  of  the  sacred  ducks  ? 
Would  you  like  to  learn  from  necromancy  1  I  will  raise  you 
up  suddenly  any  dead  man  you  like,  just  as  Apollonius  of 
Tyana  raised  Achilles,  and  the  Pythoness  did  in  the  presence 
of  Saul  :  the  dead  man  shall  reveal  to  us  the  whole,  neither 
more  nor  less  than,  at  the  invocation  of  Erictho,  a  dead  man 
revealed  to  Pompey  all  the  progress  and  issue  of  the  battle 
of  Pharsalia.  Or,  if  you  are  afraid  of  the  dead,  as  is  common 
to  all  who  are  unfortunate  in  marriage,  I  will  simply  use 
sciomancy,  or  divination  by  means  of  a  shade." 

Here  Panurge  boils  over.  This  parade  of  learning, 
with  the  constant  assumption  that  his  marriage  will  be 
unlucky,  is  too  much  for  him,  and  he  curses  the  magician. 

The  advice  of  Friar  John,  who  is  next  consulted,  may 
be  passed  over.     One  thing  may  be  remarked,  that  the 


APPEAL    TO    THE    KING.  119 

w^arhy  mvnk  has  lost  nothing  by  being  transported  from 
the  court  of  Gargantua  to  the  following  of  the  heir-ap- 
parent. He  is  as  lusty  an  animal,  as  full  of  spirits  and 
vigour,  as  outspoken,  and  as  straightforward  as  when  he 
seized  the  cross  made  out  of  an  apple-tree  and  slew  King 
Picrochole's  men  in  that  surprising  manner,  all  to  defend 
the  next  year's  vintage. 

The  appeal  to  oracles,  sibyls,  dying  poets,  and  astro- 
logers having  so  far  signally  failed,  Pantagruel,  whose 
patience  in  this  knotty  matter  is  beyond  all  praise,  re- 
marks that  as  everything  in  the  world  consists  of  soul, 
body,  and  worldly  goods,  and  as  the  guard  of  these  three 
we  have  appointed  the  divine,  the  physician,  and  the 
lawyer — nothing  could  be  better  than  to  take  the  advice, 
in  turn,  of  three  distinguished  members  of  these  profes- 
sions. It  is  about  this  point  that  we  begin  to  suspect 
Panurge's  curiosity  of  marriage  to  be  developing  itself 
unconsciously,  in  the  mind  of  the  author,  into  a  philoso- 
phical curiosity  to  discover  a  solution  to  a  far  broader 
question,  or  rather  group  of  questions.  This  is  quite  in 
the  manner  of  Rabelais. 1  Can  man  foretell  the  future  by 
aid  of  nature?  Are  there  in  this  world  laws  constant 
and  absolute  which  men  can  learn,  and  having  learned 
them,  can  predict  what  will  happen1?  Is  what  we  call 
chance  the  working  of  some  hidden  force  1  Can  we  com- 
pel this  unknown  force  to  yield  up  its  secrets  1  Can  we 
get  any  help,  or  information,  or  comfort  from  the  unseen 
world  %  Panurge  tries  first,  for  his  petty  personal  affairs, 
the  old  methods,  the  sortes  Virgiliance,  the  interpreta- 
tions of  dreams,  the  sibyl's  leaves,  the  words  of  a  dying 
man,  the  astrologer,  with  his  countless  plans  of  super- 

1  See  Fleury's  Rabelais,  ii.  69  et  seq. 


120  RABELAIS. 

stitious  divination.  Alas !  there  is  no  response ;  the 
oracles  are  dumb  :  what  we  do  get  is  uncertain,  rambling, 
and  of  manifold  interpretation.  From  the  wisdom  of 
the  ancients  he  turns,  by  Pantagruel's  directions,  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  moderns,  and  consults  the  theologian, 
the  physician,  and  the  lawyer. 

"  Therefore,"  said  Pantagruel, "  on  the  next  ensuing  Sunday 
let  us  have  for  our  divine  the  godly  father  Hippo  thadeus,  for 
physician  our  honest  Master  Rondibilis,  and  for  legist  our 
friend  Bridlegoose.  Nor  will  it  be  amiss  if  we  enter  upon  the 
Pythagorean  tetrade,  and  for  a  fourth  that  we  have  our  faith- 
ful philosopher  Trouillogan,  seeing  that  only  the  perfect 
philosopher,  and  such  a  philosopher  as  is  Trouillogan,  is  able 
to  answer  positively  on  all  doubts  which  may  be  proposed 
to  him.  Carpalim,  give  orders  that  we  may  have  all  four  to 
dinner  on  Sunday  next." 

The  theologian  is  first  invited  to  give  an  opinion. 
The  future,  however,  which  he  holds  forth  is  clogged 
with  the  conditional  if.  He  will  be  happy  in  his 
marriage  if  he  marry  a  good  and  honourable  wife,  if  he 
comport  himself  as  a  good  husband  should,  and  if  both 
husband  and  wife  stand  perpetually  in  awe  of  the  divine 
commandments.1  Panurge  takes  no  comfort  from  this 
modified  assurance  of  happiness,  and  turns  to  the  doctor, 
Rondibilis. 

The  learned  physician,  in  whose  name  and  grave  dis- 
course we  may  permit  ourselves  to  recognise  one  Guillauine 
Rondelet,  an  eminent  physician  of  Montpellier,  advises 
Panurge  to  divert  his  thoughts  from  the  contemplation 
of  marriage  by  the  five  methods  recommended  in  ancient 

1  Those  who  love  literary  parallels  may  compare  Desperiers  on  the 
efficacy  of  prayer  in  the  '  Cymbalum  MundL' 


DOCTOR    RONDIBILIS.  121 

authors.  Foremost  among  them  he  places  deep  and 
continuous  study.  Here,  again,  Eabelais  allows  his 
imagination  free  and  worthy  play,  and  pronounces  a 
panegyric  on  study  which  seems  almost  inspired. 

"  Contemplate  the  form  of  a  man  intent  upon  some  study. 
You  will  see  that  all  his  natural  faculties  are  suspended,  all 
exterior  sensation  has  ceased  ;  you  will  think  him  no  longer 
living  in  himself,  but  rapt  away  in  ecstasy ;  you  will  own 
that  Socrates  was  in  no  way  wrong  when  he  said  that 
philosophy  is  nothing  else  than  a  meditation  on  death. 
Perhaps  that  is  the  reason  why  Democritus  blinded  him- 
self, esteeming  the  loss  of  sight  less  than  the  diminution  of 
his  contemplations,  which  he  felt  to  be  interrupted  by  the 
wandering  of  his  eyes.  Therefore  is  Pallas,  goddess  of  wis- 
dom, guardian  of  students,  called  a  virgin ;  therefore  are  the 
Muses  virgins ;  therefore  remain  the  Graces  in  eternal  maiden- 
hood ;  and  I  remember  to  have  read  how  Cupid,  being  asked 
by  his  mother  why  he  did  not  assail  the  Muses,  replied  that 
he  found  them  so  pure,  so  modest,  and  so  continually  occu- 
pied, that  he  unbent  his  bow,  closed  his  quiver,  and  extin- 
guished his  flambeau,  through  shame  and  fear  of  hurting 
them.  Then  he  took  off  the  bandage  from  his  eyes  the  better 
to  see  them,  and  to  hear  their  pleasant  chants  and  poetic  odes. 
In  this  he  took  the  greatest  pleasure  possible,  so  that  often 
he  found  himself  ravished  by  their  beauty  and  their  graces, 
and  was  lulled  to  sleep  by  their  harmonies.  So  far  was  he 
from  wishing  to  assail  them  or  to  distract  them  from  their 
studies." 

Besides  a  second  discourse,  garnished  in  the  Rabelaisian 
style  with  classical  illustrations,  reminiscences,  and  anec- 
dotes, Panurge  is  nothing  forwarded  by  the  doctor.  There 
remains  the  philosopher  Trouillogan ;  and  here  the  author 
suddenly  remembering  Gargantua,  and  neglecting  the 
fact  that  he  had  already  long  since  been  consigned  to 


122  KABELAIS. 

Fairyland,  makes  him  unexpectedly  enter  the  hall,  fol- 
lowed by  Ponocrates.  He  is  no  more  a  giant,  but  a  wise 
and  accomplished  sovereign,  who  drinks  gravely  to  the 
health  of  the  company,  and  listens  to  the  discussion. 
The  philosopher  evades  every  question,  and  will  return 
a  direct  answer  to  no  single  point.  He  pleases  Gar- 
gantua,  however,  who  leaves  the  company  with  many 
compliments. 

Judge  Bridlegoose,  who  should  have  been  consulted 
next,  is  unavoidably  absent,  having  to  attend  a  higher 
court  than  his  own  in  order  to  give  reasons  for  a  certain 
judgment.  Six  chapters  are  devoted  to  this  famous  case. 
The  judge,  now  an  old  man,  has  decided  in  his  official 
capacity  upwards  of  four  thousand  cases,  his  decisions 
having,  for  the  most  part,  been  accepted  as  just  and 
proper.  It  is  therefore  a  very  hard  thing  for  him  to  be 
summoned  in  his  old  age  to  defend  and  explain  his 
judgment. 

"  For  all  excuse,  he  replied  nothing  more  than  that  he  was 
become  old,  and  his  sight  was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been ; 
alleging  the  various  miseries  and  calamities  which  age  brings 
with  it.  Therefore  it  was  that  he  did  not  see  the  number  of 
the  dice  so  clearly  as  in  the  past  time.  Whence  it  might  be 
that  just  as  Isaac,  being  old  and  seeing  imperfectly,  took 
Jacob  for  Esau,  so  he,  in  the  decision  of  the  case  in  question, 
might  have  taken  a  four  for  a  five,  especially  as  at  this  time 
he  made  use  of  his  small  dice." 

In  point  of  fact  the  good  old  judge  has  never  used  any 
other  method  in  his  decisions  than  to  throw  the  dice,  a 
plan  which,  in  all  simplicity,  he  believes  to  be  that  fol- 
lowed by  all  his  brethren.  Chance  has  always  ruled  his 
verdict.      Yet  he   reads,    examines,    notes,    and   makes 


JUDGE    BRIDLEGOOSE.  123 

abstracts  of  the  whole  mass  of  the  pleadings  and  docu- 
ments handed  in  with  every  case.  "  But  why,"  asks  the 
president,  "  do  you  not  at  once  throw  your  dice,  and 
have  done  with  it  ?"  "  Because  it  is  well,"  replies  the 
judge,  "to  proceed  according  to  form  in  all  judicial 
matters;  because,  also,  the  labour  of  reading  the  docu- 
ments is  good  for  health ;  and  because,  at  its  first  ap- 
pearance in  court,  a  new  case  is  generally  an  unformed, 
crude  thing,  which  requires  time,  the  pleadings  of  many 
lawyers,  and  the  accumulations  of  much  documentary 
evidence,  before  it  assumes  its  true  proportions."  The 
judge  shows  cause  for  his  method  by  a  copious  mass  of 
legal  and  classical  illustration.  His  learning,  his  memory, 
and  his  knowledge  of  procedure  set  off  the  simple  com- 
placency with  which  he  explains  his  plan.  Every  kind  of 
case  he  shows  may  be  so  decided.  For  important  causes 
big  dice  should  be  employed;  for  minor  ones,  smaller; 
because  "semper  in  obscuris  quod  minimum  est  se- 
quimur."  You  must  throw  first  for  the  defendant  and 
then  for  the  plaintiff.  In  criminal  cases,  even  when  the 
prisoner  has  been  taken  red-handed,  the  method  is  appli- 
cable, after  the  prosecutor  has  taken  a  good  long  sleep, 
and  brought  evidence  of  that  fact.  Pantagruel  begs  that 
the  judge  may  be  acquitted  in  consideration  of  forty  years' 
good  service,  during  which  time  he  has  delivered  many 
excellent  judgments  and  attained  so  high  a  reputation 
for  impartiality — "that  envy  itself  could  not  be  so 
impudent  as  to  accuse  him  of  any  act  worthy  of  re- 
prehension." 

The  wisdom  of  the  moderns,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
ancients,  has  failed.  Suppose  we  try  a  fool,  the  great 
fool  Triboulet. 


124  RABELAIS. 

"  Panurge  on  his  arrival  gave  him  a  pig's  bladder,  well 
filled  and  resounding  by  reason  of  peas  which  were  within. 
Then  he  gave  him  a  gilt  wooden  sword  ;  then  a  little  pouch 
made  of  a  tortoise-shell ;  then  a  bottle  with  wicker-work 
filled  with  Breton  wine,  and  a  quarter  of  a  hundred  of 
apples. 

"  Triboulet  girded  on  the  sword  and  the  pouch,  took  the 
bladder  in  his  hand,  ate  some  of  the  apples,  and  drank  up 
all  the  wine.  Panurge  looked  at  him  curiously  and  said, 
*  I  have  never  yet  seen  any  fool  who  would  not  drink  wil- 
lingly and  in  long  gulps/  Then  he  set  forth  his  affair  in 
rhetorical  and  elegant  phrases.  Before  he  had  finished, 
Triboulet  gave  him  a  great  blow  with  his  fist  between  his 
shoulders,  handed  him  back  the  bottle  and  flirted  him  on 
the  nose  with  the  bladder,  saying  for  his  only  answer  while 
he  shook  his  head,  'By  the  Lord,  Lord,  a  mad  fool,  war* 
monk,  bagpipe  of  Buzangay  ! ' n 

This  remarkable  oracle  sets  them  all  thinking.  Pan 
tagruel,  most  learned  of  princes,  shows  by  illustration 
from  ancient  history  how  the  shaking  of  the  head  is 
a  frequent  if  not  a  universal  concomitant  of  oracular 
utterance.  Heliogabalus,  wishing  to  be  thought  inspired, 
went  shaking  his  head :  the  Maenads,  priestesses  of 
Bacchus,  the  priests  of  Cybele,  Roman  women  at  the  Bac- 
chanalian festivals,  all  shook  their  heads :  and  Plautus 
held  Charmides  was  in  a  rapt  ecstasy  because  he  shook 
his  head.  Therefore  the  utterances  of  Triboulet  must 
be  taken  seriously.  For  his  own  part,  he  interprets 
them  as  a  discouragement  of  marriage.  Panurge  differs 
from  this  reading.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  the 
whole  of  his  search  after  oracular  direction,  Panurge 
always  interprets  the  obscure  words  into  an  encourage- 
ment to  marry. 


THE  ORACLE  OF  THE  BOTTLE.       125 

"Let  me  not,"  he  says,  "imprudently  desire  to  be  exempt 
from  the  dominion  of  folly.  Everybody  is  a  fool.  Solomon 
says,  that  infinite  is  the  number  of  fools.  Out  of  infinity 
nothing  can  be  deducted  ;  to  infinity  nothing  can  be  added. 
Aristotle  proves  that.  A  fool,  and  a  mad  fool,  I  should  be, 
if,  being  a  fool,  I  should  not  esteem  myself  a  fool.  And  the 
rest  of  Triboulet'8  words  make  in  my  favour.  He  says  to 
my  wife,  'Ware  monk  {moyne).1  He  means  the  sparrow 
(moineau)  that  will  be  her  pet,  like  that  of  Lesbia.  Then 
he  means  that  she  will  be  rustic  and  agreeable,  as  a  fair 
bagpipe-player  of  Buzancay.  The  truthful  Triboulet  knows 
my  natural  and  internal  affections  ;  for  I  declare  that  I 
love  the  gay  and  dishevelled  shepherdesses  far  more  than 
the  great  ladies  of  the  court,  with  their  perfumes  and  rich 
attire.  The  sound  of  the  rustic  pipes  pleases  me  more  than 
the  droning  of  lutes,  rebecs,  and  courtly  violins.  He  gave 
me  a  blow  with  his  fist  on  my  shoulders.  Very  well,  let  it 
be  for  the  love  of  the  Lord  and  deduction  from  the  pains  of 
purgatory.  He  did  not  do  it  out  of  malice  ;  he  thought  he 
was  beating  some  page  ;  he  is  benevolent  in  his  folly.  I 
pardon  him  with  all  my  heart.  He  flirted  me  on  the  nose. 
That  means  that  there  will  be  little  plays  between  my  wife 
and  me,  as  happens  among  all  new-married  folks." 

One  course  remains :  to  try  the  oracle  of  the  Divine 
Bottle — la  Dive  Bouteille.  It  can  be  reached  by  a  long 
and  perilous  voyage  in  unknown  seas  and  among  islands 
little  visited.  The  dangers  of  the  expedition  make  it  the 
more  attractive  to  Pantagruel.  That  great  traveller,  Xeno- 
manes,  will  act  as  their  guide  and  interpreter.  Epistemon, 
Carpalim,  Eusthenes  (Knowledge,  Dexterity,  Strength) 
will  accompany  the  party.  An  immense  fleet  is  gathered 
at  St  Malo,  although  at  the  beginning  of  the  work  we 
were  supposed  to  be  in  Dipsodie,  far  beyond  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope.     The  ships  are  laden  with  every  kind  of 


126  KABELAIS. 

provision.  Then  comes  a  long  digression,  in  which,  under 
a  description  of  the  herb  Pantagruelion  or  hemp,  Rabe- 
lais exhausts  himself,  if  that  were  possible,  in  eulogy  of 
industry,  commerce,  and  human  ingenuity  applied  to 
peaceful  purposes.  To  be  provided  with  goodly  store  of 
this  kind  is  to  be  fortified  with  determination  and  cour- 
age. It  is  a  roundabout  method  of  praising  the  qualities 
which  most  advance  the  world,  but  it  is  the  author's 
method.  And  when  he  describes  the  herb  and  its  pro- 
perties, he  speaks  as  a  botanist  as  well  as  a  moralist. 
All  being  ready  at  last — Ho  for  the  Dive  Bouteille  I 


127 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE   QUEST   OF   THE   DIVINE   BOTTLE. 

"We  are  now  to  set  forth  upon  the  strangest  voyage  on 
which  ever  company  of  adventurers  were  engaged.  We 
are  to  sail  over  unknown  seas,  and  to  land  on  unknown 
islands.  We  shall  encounter  strange  perils,  and  fall  among 
strange  people.  We  shall  light  upon  wondrous  customs  : 
we  shall  meet  with  perilous  adventures.  Everywhere  we 
shall  find  the  people  exactly  the  same  as  in  Erance,  fol- 
lowing the  same  customs,  speaking  the  same  tongue, 
wearing  the  same  attire,  occupied  with  the  same  super- 
stitions, and  beset  with  the  same  prejudices  :  everywhere 
there  will  be  illustrations  as  well  as  contrasts  of  the  life 
we  have  left  behind  us  :  everywhere  we  shall  find  the 
same  pretence  at  a  reply,  and  the  same  dead  silence  to 
the  question  which  lies  in  Pantagruel's  mind,  and  is 
obscurely  figured  in  Panurge's  doubt.  Is  there,  anywhere, 
or  has  there  ever  been  any  voice,  any  echo,  any  reply 
from  the  silent  world  1 

We  sail  in  quest  of  truth.  What  we  discover  we  shall 
learn  later  on. 

Meanwhile  we  are  not  going  to  tell  the  world  what 
we  are  in  search  of.     Sufficient  for  them  to  know  that 


128  RABELAIS. 

Panurge  still  wears  his  long  cloak  of  russet  brown,  with 
the  spectacles  in  his  cap,  and  the  flea  in  his  ear,  in  token, 
first,  of  his  desire  to  marry  and  lead  a  peaceful  life — and 
secondly,  of  his  grave  doubts  as  to  the  prudence  of  the 
step;  and  that  we  are  bound  for  the  Oracle  of  the  Bottle, 
where  his  doubts  may  be  resolved. 

Many  strange  voyages  were  made  in  the  old  days 
when  the  majipa  mundi  was  still  open  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  geographers;  when  the  coast  of  America  was 
supposed  to  be  the  coast  of  India ;  when  the  Ogygian 
Islands  lay  four  days'  sail  from  Albion,  and  the  Fortunate 
Islands  were  somewhere  in  mid- Atlantic.  The  most 
famous  of  the  voyages,  and  that  to  which  the  narrative 
of  Rabelais  owes  most,  is  the  { True  History '  of  Lucian. 
There  was  also  the  voyage  of  St  Brandan,  who  landed  on 
the  frontiers  of  hell,  passed  Judas  floating  on  a  red-hot 
rock,  and  visited  the  island  where  Adam  and  Eve,  yet 
sinless,  once  dwelt.  There  were  the  Argonauts  of  the 
pseudo  Orpheus,  of  Apollonius  Rhodius,  and  of  Valerius 
Flaccus,  from  the  first  of  which  Rabelais  borrows  the 
island  of  the  Long-lived,  to  which  we  shall  presently 
come.  There  was,  in  those  days  of  early  discovery, 
nothing  too  marvellous  to  be  believed,  nothing  impossible 
to  be  found  on  this  great  globe.  And  just  as  in  his  First 
Book  Rabelais  burlesques  with  flashes  of  serious  purpose 
the  romantic  times  of  chivalrous  adventure,  so  now  with 
keener  insight  and  firmer  hand,  with  a  more  definite 
aim,  he  burlesques  the  stories  of  travel  and  discovery. 
Meantime,  beneath  each  new  extravagance  lies  hidden 
some  parable  which  those  may  read  who  have  the  eyes. 
Unhappily  we  must  not  linger  as  we  voyage  in  this 
marvellous  archipelago. 


THE-  SAILING    OF    THE    FLEET.  129 

It  is  a  goodly  company  which  starts  upon  this  voyage. 
There  is  Panurge,  attired  according  to  his  vow,  half 
afraid,  but  anticipating  scenes  of  mirth  and  mischief. 
There  is  Friar  John,  burly  and  confident,  mindful  of 
his  former  prowess.  There  are  Epistemon,  Eusthenes, 
Carpalim,  Rhizotomus,  Gymnast,  and  Xenomanes  the 
traveller :  there  is,  at  the  head  of  all,  the  wise  and  grave 
Prince  Pantagruel. 

There  were  twelve  ships  composing  the  fleet,  but  these 
were  supplemented  by  a  like  number  of  triremes — 
Rabelais  cannot  lose  a  single  opportunity  of  airing  his 
learning — row  -  barges,  galleys,  and  feluccas,  all  stored 
with  plenty  of  the  herb  Pantagruelion.  The  admiral's 
ship,  so  to  speak,  was  the  Thalamege,  which  carried  for 
ensign,  hoisted  in  her  stern,  a  bottle  half  silver  half  gold. 
The  other  ships  bore  drinking-vessels,  funnels,  goblets, 
and  so  forth,  for  their  ensigns,  so  that  "  there  was  not  a 
man,  however  sad,  melancholy,  and  in  the  dumps,  even 
if  he  were  Heraclitus  the  weeper,  but  seeing  this  noble 
convoy  of  ships  and  their  devices,  must  have  been  seized 
with  new  joy,  and  confessed  that  the  travellers  were  all 
honest  topers." 

Before  setting  sail,  the  officers  gathered  on  board  the 
Thalamege,  where  Pantagruel  made  them  a  short  exhorta- 
tion, and  said  prayers,  after  which  they  sang  a  psalm — 
"  When  Israel  went  out  of  Egypt " — it  was  one  of  the 
psalms  translated  by  Marot,  and  it  was  then  the  fashion 
of  the  Court  at  Paris  to  sing  them,  a  fashion  which  lasted 
a  very  little  while.  Then  they  held  a  feast,  at  which,  of 
course,  plenty  of  wine  was  consumed.  And  this  was 
the  cause  that  no  one  became  sea-sick,  a  thing  which 
could   not   otherwise   have   happened,    although   every- 

F.C. VIII.  I 


130  RABELAIS. 

body  had  been  "eating  quinces,  citron -peel,  juice  of 
pomegranates,  sweet  or  sour,  or  keeping  long  diet,  or 
plastering  their  stomachs  with  paper,  or  otherwise  doing 
what  foolish  physicians  prescribe  to  those  who  go  to 
sea." 

They  started  due  west  in  the  latitude  of  Olonne.  For 
the  first  two  days  they  discover  nothing,  but  on  the 
third  they  make  an  island  called  Nowhere  (Medamothy 
=  Mrj&afjioOi),  whose  king  is  Philophanes,  absent  for 
the  marriage  of  his  brother  Philotheamon.  This  is  the 
land  of  show  and  ostentation.  It  was  the  day  of  the 
great  fair,  and  Pantagruel's  company  bought  pictures  and 
strange  animals.  Here  Pantagruel  receives  a  letter  from 
his  father,  and  sends  him  back  word  by  pigeon-express 
that  all  is  going  well  with  the  expedition.  On  the  fifth 
day,  having  again  set  sail,  they  discover  a  merchantman 
to  windward,  and  on  bearing  up  and  hailing  her,  find 
the  ship  to  be  full  of  passengers  from  Lantern  Land, 
whither  they  are  going ;  and  they  are  told  that  there  is 
to  be  a  general  chapter  of  the  Lanterns  about  the  latter 
end  of  July — it  was  then  the  fourteenth  of  June — which 
they  might  witness  if  they  got  to  Lantern  Land  in  time. 
As  we  hear  nothing  more  about  this  chapter  of  Lanterns, 
probably  Rabelais  forgot  all  about  it.  He  writes  care- 
lessly, as  we  have  had  many  opportunities  of  observing, 
promises  recklessly,  and  thinks  nothing  of  forgetting  a 
promise,  or  leaving  a  thing  half  told.  The  chapter  of 
Lanterns  refers  perhaps  to  the  Council  of  Trent,  perhaps 
to  some  council  of  Protestants  at  Geneva  or  La  Eochelle. 

It  would  appear,  though  it  is  not  so  stated,  that  Pan- 
urge,  Epistemon,  and  Friar  John  went  on  board  the 
ship,  because  it  was  on  this  occasion  that  occurred  the 


THE    SHEEP-MERCHANT.  131 

famous  adventure  of  the  sheep.  The  story  is  borrowed 
from  Folengo,  an  Italian  author,  contemporary  with 
Eabelais, — like  him  an  ex-monk,  and  like  him  a  writer 
of  burlesque  stories.  The  'Histoire  Maccaronique  de 
Merlin  Coccaye,'  a  French  translation  of  Folengo's 
'Macaronics,'  in  which  this  tale  is  told,  has  been  pub- 
lished in  the  ( Bibliotheque  Elzevirienne.' 

It  began  with  a  quarrel  between  one  Dindenault,  a 
sheep-merchant  of  Taillebourg,  and  Panurge.  The  latter, 
readier  with  his  tongue,  exasperates  the  drover,  who 
would  have  killed  him,  but  his  sword  providentially 
stuck  in  the  scabbard.  Panurge,  always  an  unblushing 
coward,  runs  away  bawling  for  help.  The  quarrel  is 
made  up,  but  Panurge  nourishes  a  dream  of  revenge, 
which  he  presently  puts  into  execution.  He  pretends 
that  he  wishes  to  buy  one  of  the  drover's  rams:  after 
bargaining,  which  is  sufficiently  comic,  but  too  long, 
he  succeeds  in  agreeing  upon  the  price,  and  buys  the 
ram: — 

"  On  a  sudden, — I  do  not  know  how — the  thing  was  unex- 
pected, and  I  had  not  time  to  consider  it, — Panurge,  without 
saying  another  word,  throws  his  ram,  crying  and  bleating,  into 
the  sea.  All  the  other  sheep  crying  and  bleating  with  like 
intonation,  began  to  throw  themselves  and  to  leap  into  the 
sea  after  him  in  file.  The  rush  was  who  would  first  leap  after 
his  companion.  Nor  was  it  possible  to  keep  them,  for  you 
know  that  the  nature  of  the  sheep  is  always  to  follow  the 
leader  wherever  he  goes,  wherefore  Aristotle  (lib.  ix.  de 
Histor.  Anim.)  calls  him  the  most  foolish  animal  in  the 
world.  The  merchant,  in  consternation  at  seeing  his  sheep 
perish  and  drown  before  his  eyes,  tried  with  all  his  might 
to  stop  and  prevent  them.  But  all  in  vain.  All,  one  after 
the  other,  leapt  into  the  sea  and  were  drowned.  Lastly,  he 
seized  a  strong  and  large  ram  by  the  fleece  on  the  deck  oi 


132  RABELAIS. 

the  ship,  thinking  to  hold  him  back  and  so  to  save  the  rest ; 
but  the  sheep  was  so  strong  that  he  carried  the  merchant 
into  the  sea  with  him  and  he  was  drowned,  just  as  the  sheep 
of  Polyphemus  the  one-eyed  Cyclop  carried  out  of  the  cavern 
Ulysses  and  his  companions.  In  like  manner  acted  all  the 
other  shepherds  and  drovers,  taking  some  by  the  horns,  others 
by  the  legs,  and  others  by  the  fleece,  but  they  were  all  in 
the  same  way  carried  into  the  sea  and  drowned  miserably. 
Panurge,  meanwhile,  standing  by  the  ship's  kitchen,  with  an 
oar  in  his  hand,  not  to  help  the  drovers  but  to  prevent  them 
from  climbing  up  into  the  ship,  and  escaping  death,  preached 
eloquently  to  them,  reminding  them  in  rhetorical  phrases  ot 
the  miseries  of  this  world,  the  happiness  of  the  next,  affirm- 
ing that  happier  are  the  dead  than  those  who  live  in  the 
vale  of  misery,  and  to  each  one  promising  a  fair  cenotaph  and 
honorary  sepulchre  on  the  very  top  of  Mont  Cenis  ;  wishing 
them,  nevertheless,  in  case  that  to  live  still  would  not  vex 
them,  and  drowning  was  not  to  their  fancy,  the  happy  chance 
of  meeting  with  a  whale,  which,  after  the  example  of  Jonah, 
should  give  them  up  safe  and  sound  in  some  land  of  satin 
on  the  third  day." 

This  story  is  a  fair  sample  of  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
century  humour.  It  is  far  better  told,  of  course,  than 
most  of  the  stories  which  were  so  plentiful  at  the  time. 
But  the  point,  the  joke  of  the  thing,  is  typical.  It  turns 
on  the  death,  or  the  wounding,  or  the  suffering  of  the 
discomfited.  Over  and  over  again,  in  the  facetious 
literature  of  the  period,  torture,  mutilation,  disgrace,  and 
death  mark  the  "place  where  the  laughter  comes  in." 
Rabelais  affords  another  example  in  the  story  which  he 
presently  tells  of  Villon's  trick  on  Brother  Tappecoue 
(see  p.  134). 

Continuing  their  course,  the  voyagers  arrive  presently 
at  Ennasin,  a  triangular  island  whose  inhabitants  have 


PROCURATION    ISLAND.  133 

noses  like  the  ace  of  clubs.  They  are  all  related  to  each 
other,  but  there  are  none  of  the  ordinary  terms  of  rela- 
tionship among  them,  and  they  address  each  other  with 
strange  conceits.  This  is  the  country  of  those  who 
follow  after  every  affected  habit. 

After  the  island  of  Ennasin,  they  touch  at  the  isle 
of  Chely  or  Lips,  which  is  the  land  of  ceremonies, 
idle  talk,  and  lip-service.  The  greatest  courtesy  is,  of 
course,  observed,  by  the  king  towards  Pantagruel  and 
his  company. 

If  Lip  island  is  the  place  where  a  meaningless  polite- 
ness is  everything,  the  next  land  they  touch,  that  of 
Procuration,  is  the  land  of  litigation  and  chicane.  It  is 
a  country  all  blurred  and  blotted,  so  that  one  hardly 
knows  what  to  make  of  it.  On  landing,  the  travellers 
were  met  by  a  number  of  "  Procultous  et  Chicqanous," 
Pettifoggers  and  Catchpoles,  who  neither  invited  them 
to  eat  or  drink,  but  with  many  scrapes  and  cringes  put 
themselves  at  the  strangers'  service,  for  a  consideration. 
The  interpreter  explains  that  they  live  by  being  beaten. 
"  At  Rome  an  infinite  number  of  people  gain  their 
livelihood  by  poisoning,  stabbing,  and  murdering;  the 
Catchpoles  earn  theirs  by  being  thrashed  ;  so  that  if  they 
are  long  without  being  beaten,  they,  with  their  wives 
and  children,  would  be  starved."  One  would  have 
thought  that  here,  at  least,  there  was  no  occasion  to 
parade  the  monks.  But  Rabelais  thinks  otherwise.  The 
way  is  as  follows  : — 

u  When  a  monk,  priest,  usurer,  or  advocate  intends  to 
injure  any  gentleman  of  the  country,  he  sends  one  of  these 
Catchpoles  to  visit  him.  Catchpole  cites  him,  serves  a 
summons  upon  him,  outrages  him,  and  insults  him  inipu- 


134  RABELAIS. 

dently,  following  his  record  and  instruction  ;  so  that  the 
gentleman,  unless  he  is  paralytic  or  more  stupid  than  a  tad- 
pole, is  constrained  to  bastinado  him,  to  lay  his  sword  about 
his  head,  or,  still  better,  to  throw  him  out  of  the  window 
of  his  castle.  That  done,  Catchpole  is  rich  for  four  months, 
just  as  if  beatings  with  a  stick  were  his  simple  harvest.  For 
he  will  have  his  pay  from  the  usurer,  monk,  or  priest,  and 
from  his  assailant  damages,  sometimes  so  great  and  excessive 
that  the  gentleman  may  lose  his  whole  estate  by  them,  with 
the  risk  of  rotting  miserably  in  prison,  just  as  if  he  had 
struck  the  king." 

"  I  know,"  said  Panurge,  "  an  excellent  remedy  for 
this." 

And  then  he  tells  the  story  how  the  Seigneur  de 
Basone*  gave  such  a  lesson  to  a  Catchpole,  that  ever 
afterwards  the  office  in  his  neighbourhood  fell  into  dis- 
respect. The  story  includes  that  of  Villon's  trick  on 
Brother  Tappecoue,  already  referred  to. 

"  Francois  Villon,  in  his  old  age,  retired  to  St  Maixent,  in 
Poitou,  under  the  protection  of  a  good  man,  abbe  of  the  said 
place.  There,  in  order  to  amuse  the  people,  he  undertook 
to  play  the  Passion  in  the  action  and  language  of  the  coun- 
try. The  parts  distributed,  the  players  rehearsed,  the  stage 
prepared,  he  told  the  mayor  and  sheriffs  that  the  mystery 
would  be  ready  for  the  fair  at  Niort ;  only  they  had  to  find 
dresses  fit  for  the  personages  represented.  The  mayor  and 
sheriffs  gave  orders  to  meet  the  case.  Villon,  in  order  to 
dress  an  old  peasant  who  was  going  to  play  God  the  Father, 
asked  Friar  Stephen  Tappecoue,  sacristan  to  the  Cordelier 
monks  of  the  place,  to  lend  him  a  cope  and  stole.  Tappecoue 
refused,  alleging  that,  by  the  provincial  statutes,  it  was 
rigorously  forbidden  to  lend  or  give  anything  to  play-actors. 
Villon  replied  that  the  statute  only  concerned  farces,  mum- 
meries, and  dissolute  games,  and  that  he  had  seen  the  thing 
done  as  he  proposed  at  Brussels  and  elsewhere.     Tappecoue, 


BROTHER   TAPPECOUE.  135 

notwithstanding,  told  him  peremptorily  that  he  must  provide 
himself  elsewhere  if  he  pleased,  but  must  hope  for  nothing 
from  his  sacristy.  Villon  reported  this  to  the  players  as  a 
great  abomination,  adding  that  God  would  shortly  revenge 
himself,  and  make  a  signal  example  of  Tappecoue. 

"  On  the  following  Saturday  he  had  notice  that  Tappecoue, 
on  the  mare  belonging  to  the  convent,  was  gone  to  make  a 
collection  at  St  Ligaire,  and  that  he  would  be  coming  back 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  At  that  time,  therefore, 
he  made  the  exhibition  of  his  devilry  through  the  streets  and 
markets.  The  devils  were  all  caparisoned  in  skins  of  wolves, 
calves,  and  sheep,  rigged  with  sheep's  heads,  bulls'  horns, 
and  great  kitchen-hooks,  girt  round  with  broad  leathern 
belts,  from  which  there  hung  big  cows'  bells  and  mules' 
bells,  with  a  horrific  din.  Some  held  in  their  hands  black 
sticks  filled  with  fusees  ;  others  long  lighted  firebrands,  on 
which,  at  the  street  corners,  they  threw  resin-powder,  from 
which  came  terrible  flame  and  smoke.  After  having  led 
them  thus,  with  contentment  of  the  people  and  dreadful 
fright  of  children,  he  finally  took  them  to  banquet  at  a 
tavern  outside  the  gate  on  the  road  to  St  Ligaire. 

"  Arrived  at  the  tavern,  he  perceived  afar  off  Tappecoue, 
as  he  was  coming  back  from  making  his  collection,  and  cried 
to  his  devils, — 

*  Hie  est  de  patria,  natus  de  gente  belistrS, 
Qui  solet  antiquo  bribas  portare  bisacco.' 

" '  Par  la  mort  Dieu,'  cried  the  devils ;  '  he  would  not  lend 
a  single  cope  to  God  the  Father.     Let  us  frighten  him.' 

"  '  It  is  well  said,'  replied  Villon  ;  *  but  hide  every  man 
until  he  passes,  and  charge  your  fusees  and  firebrands.' 

"  Tappecoue  arrived  at  the  place.  All  started  out  into  the 
road  before  him,  throwing  fire  from  all  sides  over  him  and 
on  his  mare,  beating  their  drums,  and  roaring  like  devils, 
'  Hho  !  hho  !  hho  !  brourrrs,  rrrourrrs,  rrrourrrs  !  hou,  hou ! 
hho  !  hho  !  hho  !  Friar  Stephen,  what  do  you  think  of  us 
for  devils  ? ' 

"  The  mare  in  a  fright  began  to  trot,  to  run,  to  gallop,  to 


136  KABELAIS 

back -jump,  and  to  jerk,  insomuch  that  she  threw  Friar 
Tappecoue,  though  he  held  fast  by  the  saddle  with  all  his 
might.  ...  So  was  he  dragged  by  the  mare,  continually 
multiplying  her  kicks,  and  jumping  over  hedges,  bushes,  and 
ditches  in  terror,  in  such  wise  that  she  smashed  all  his  head, 
so  that  his  brain  fell  out  near  the  cross  Hosanna.  Then 
the  arms  fell  in  pieces,  one  here,  one  there  ;  the  legs  in  like 
manner  ;  then  .  .  .  she  arrived  at  the  convent,  bringing 
nothing  home  with  her  but  his  right  foot  and  a  twisted  shoe. 
"  Villon,  seeing  that  what  he  had  hoped  for  had  happened, 
said  to  his  devils,  '  You  will  play  well,  messieurs  les  diables 
— you  will  play  well,  I  assure  you.  Oh,  how  well  you  will 
play  !  I  defy  the  devilry  of  Saumur,  of  Doue,  of  Montmor- 
illon,  of  Langes,  of  St  Epain,  of  Angers, — even,  by  the  Lord  ! 
of  Poitiers,  in  case  they  should  be  compared  with  you.  Oh, 
how  well  you  will  play  ! '  " 

This  pleasing  incident  in  the  life  of  Villon  is  not  only 
remarkable  for  the  feeling  and  kindly  nature  of  joke 
customary  at  the  time,  but  is  also  a  very  good  specimen 
of  the  Rabelaisian  story.  There  are  fifty  such  in  the 
book,  of  which  most  do  not  permit  themselves  to  be 
reproduced.  It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  truth 
there  is  in  the  story.  Villon  in  the  fifteenth  century 
resembles  Rabelais  in  the  sixteenth  in  one  respect,  and 
one  only.  Round  his  name,  as  round  that  of  Rabelais, 
there  gathered  an  infinite  number  of  stories. 

Friar  John,  in  order  to  observe  for  himself  the  marvel- 
lous customs  of  Procuration,  went  ashore  armed  with  a 
bag  of  money,  and,  meeting  a  shoal  of  Catchpoles,  asked 
who  would  be  soundly  beaten  for  twenty  ducats  ?  They 
all  volunteer  with  one  consent. 

"  Friar  John  singled  out  one,  a  red-nosed  Catchpole  who 
wore  a  great  silver  ring  on  his  right  thumb.  When  he  had 
"bosen  him,  I  perceived  that  they  nil  murmured  ;    and  I 


BEATING    OF    THE    CATCHPOLE,  137 

heard  a  tall,  young,  thin  Catchpole,  a  good  and  clever  clerk, 
and  according  to  public  report  a  worthy  fellow  in  the  eccle- 
siastical courts,  making  complaint  and  murmuring  because 
the  same  Red-nose  carried  away  all  the  practice,  so  that  if 
there  were  but  some  poor  thirty  bastinadoes  to  be  got,  he 
would  certainly  pocket  eight-and-twenty  and  a  half  of  them. 
But  all  these  complaints  and  murmurings  proceeded  from 
mere  envy.  Friar  John  so  unmercifully  belaboured  Red-nose, 
front  and  back,  sides,  legs,  and  arms,  head  and  all,  with  a 
mighty  cudgelling,  that  I  thought  he  was  beaten  to  death. 
Then  he  gave  him  the  twenty  crowns.  Up  jumped  the 
rascal,  as  jolly  as  a  king  or  two.  The  rest  cried  out  to 
Friar  John,  '  Sir,  Friar  devil,  if  it  pleases  you  to  beat  some 
of  us  cheaper,  we  are  all  at  your  command.  We  are  all  at 
your  service — bags,  papers,  pens,  and  all/  Whereupon  Red- 
nose  cried  out  against  them  with  a  loud  voice — c  Fete  Dieu  ! 
You  will  come  into  my  market !  You  will  take  away  and 
seduce  my  clients  !  I  summon  you  all.'  Then  he  turned 
with  smiling  and  joyous  face  to  Friar  John.  *  Reverend 
father  in  the  devil, — Sir,  if  you  have  found  me  good  stuff, 
and  it  please  you  to  take  your  pleasure  in  beating  me  again, 
I  will  content  myself  with  half  the  just  price.  Don't  spare 
me,  please.' " 

After  the  island  of  Procuration,  they  arrive  at  those 
of  Tohu  and  Bohu — Ruin  and  Desolation.  This  had 
lately  been  devastated  by  the  giant  Bringuenarilles,  who 
habitually  lived  on  windmills,  and  who  had  devoured 
everything,  including  the  frying-pans,  kettles,  and  pots. 
In  other  words,  the  country  had  been  pillaged  and  ruined 
in  the  course  of  war. 

Let  us  pause  for  a  moment  to  remark  that  here  occurs 
a  marked  and  great  chango,  not  only  in  the  character  of 
the  places  visited,  but  also  in  the  spirit  of  the  narrative. 
There  is  at  last  an  end  of  the  unforced  and  natural 
gaiety  with  which,  up  to  this  point,  the  story  bubbles 


138  RABELAIS. 

over.  Henceforth  the  merriment  is  artificial,  and  the 
satire  keen  and  bitter.  We  laughed  over  the  island  of 
Foolish  Conceits,  over  that  of  Ostentation,  of  Lip-service, 
and  of  Procuration.  We  learned  nothing  there  to  help 
us  in  our  quest.  But  we  were  only  at  the  beginning  of 
our  voyage ;  we  expected  no  help  from  the  follies  and 
affectations  of  men :  now,  however,  we  advance  a  step 
farther,  and  after  passing  through  a  mighty  storm,  find 
ourselves  among  those  who  pretend  to  read  for  men  a 
message  from  the  unseen  world.  And  we  shall  sail 
among  these  people  until  the  oracle  itself  is  reached. 
This  transition  takes  place  in  the  middle  of  the  Fourth 
Book.  It  will  be  remembered  (see  p.  45)  that  the 
earlier  chapters  of  this  Book  were  published  by  them- 
selves first,  as  a  tentative  step :  they  are  the  inoffen- 
sive chapters.  Before  the  whole  could  be  published, 
the  writer  took  the  precaution,  as  we  have  seen,  of  strip- 
ping himself  of  his  Church  preferments.  And  because 
these  chapters,  with  the  last  Book — the  posthumous 
Book — carry  on  the  story  without  a  break,  I  have  for 
the  purposes  of  this  work  considered  all  together  as  one 
Book,  and  called  it  the  "  Quest  of  the  Divine  Bottle." 

After  leaving  certain  islands  which  are  only  named 
and  not  visited,  they  espy  nine  sail  which  came  spooning 
before  the  wind :  they  were  full  of  monks, — Jacobins, 
Jesuits,  Capuchins,  Hermits,  Austins,  Bernardins,  Egna 
tins,  Celestins,  Theatins,  Amadeans,  Cordeliers,  Carmel- 
ites, Minims,  and  other  religious  saints  bound  for  the 
Council  of  Chesil  (which  is,  in  Hebrew,  the  star  which 
announces  storm),  there  to  sift  and  quibble  new  articles 
of  faith  against  the  heretics.  Panurge  is  delighted,  in 
his   orthodox  way.  at  the  sight   of  so   many  blessed 


THE    GREAT    STORM.  139 

fathers,  and  presently  sends  them  a  present  of  hams, 
sausages,  and  other  things  which  promote  thirst  and 
lead  to  the  drinking  of  wine.  But  Pantagruel  becomes 
melancholy,  as  foreseeing  the  terrible  storm  which  is 
about  to  fall  upon  them.  I  do  not  understand  whether 
Eabelais  intends  the  storm  to  follow  naturally  on  the 
mere  passage  of  a  shipload  of  monks,  or  whether  the 
lands  to  which  the  ships  are  now  steering  are  surrounded 
by  a  belt  of  storm  and  tempest.  Later  on,  we  are  told 
that  when  one  of  the  Macreons  (to  whose  isle  they  are 
steering)  dies,  the  air  is  full  of  storms.  The  incident  of 
the  storm,  like  the  story  of  Dindenault  and  the  sheep,  is 
borrowed  from  Folengo.  As  regards  the  description,  it 
makes  up  in  energy  what  it  lacks  in  reality.  In  other 
words,  Eabelais  had  never  seen  a  storm  at  sea. 

"  Pantagruel  having  first  implored  the  aid  of  the  Great 
God  his  Preserver,  and  made  public  prayer  in  fervent  de- 
votion, by  the  advice  of  the  pilot  held  firmly  to  the  mast. 
Friar  John  was  stripped  to  the  shirt  to  help  the  sailors  ;  so 
also  were  Epistemon,  Ponocrates,  and  the  rest.  Panurge 
alone  sat  on  the  deck  weeping  and  lamenting.  Friar  John, 
seeing  him,  cried  out,  '  By  the  Lord  !  Panurge  the  calf ; 
Panurge  the  blubberer  ;  Panurge  the  coward.  You  would  do 
much  better  to  help  us  here  than  to  sit  there  crying  like  a 
cow ! '  {  Be,  be,  be,  bous,  bous,  bous ! '  replied  Panurge.  '  Friar 
John,  my  friend,  my  good  father,  I  drown — my  friend,  I 
drown.  It  is  all  over  with  me,  my  spiritual  father,  my 
friend — it  is  all  over.  The  water  has  got  into  my  shoes  by 
way  of  my  collar.  Bous,  bous,  bous,  paisch,  hu,  hu,  hu  ! 
I  drown,  Bebe  bous,  bous,  bobous  bobous,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho  ! 
Zalas !  Zalas !  now  I  am  like  a  forked  tree,  with  my  heels  up 
and  my  head  down.  Would  to  God  that  I  were  now  in  the 
ark  of  those  blessed  fathers  whom  we  met  this  morning,  so 
devout,  so  fat,  so  joyous,  and  so  full  of  grace.     Holos,  bolos, 


140  RABELAIS. 

holos,  zalas,  zalas !  this  wave  of  all  the  devils  (mea  culpa  Deus) 
— I  mean  this  wave  of  the  Lord,  will  overwhelm  our  ship. 
Zalas  !  Friar  John,  confession.  Here  I  am  on  my  knees. 
Confiteor,  your  sacred  benediction.'  '  Thousand  devils  ! ' 
cried  Friar  John.  '  Do  not  let  us  swear,'  said  Panurge. 
( To-morrow  as  much  as  you  please.'" 

But  they  presently,  and  after  several  chapters,  pass 
through  the  storm,  and  Panurge  pulls  himself  together : — 

"  '  All  goes  well,'  he  cries.  *  Vogue  la  galere ! — only  Friar 
John  does  nothing.  His  name  is  Friar  John  Do-nothing,  and 
he  looks  on  while  I  am  toiling  and  working  for  this  good 
man,  the  sailor,  first  of  his  name.  As  for  me,  I  have  no 
fear.  I  am  called  William  the  Fearless.  So  much  courage 
have  I,  and  more.  I  do  not  mean  sheep's  courage.  I  mean 
wolfs  courage,  murderer's  assurance.  I  fear  nothing  but 
danger.' " 

The  land  at  which  they  arrive  is  one  of  the  islands  of 
the  Macreons,  or  the  Long-lived.  There  are  many  islands 
in  this  archipelago,  but  only  one  inhabited.  The  rest  are 
overrun  with  wood  and  desert.  Macrobius,  the  oldest 
of  their  chief  men,  entertains  Pantagruel  and  his  crew 
hospitably,  and  takes  those  who  wish  it  to  see  the 
curiosities  of  the  island.  These  consist  of  ancient 
temples,  obelisks,  pyramids,  monuments,  tombs  with 
inscriptions  in  known  and  unknown  characters. 

The  good  Macrobius  thus  explains  the  mystery  of  the 
forest : — 

u  Pilgrim  friends,  this  island  is  one  of  the  Sporades  of  the 
ocean.  In  former  times  rich,  frequented,  wealthy,  populous, 
and  full  of  traffic  ;  but  now,  by  course  of  time  and  on  the 
decline  of  the  world,  poor  and  desolate,  as  you  see.  In  this 
dark  forest  before  you,  above  seventy-eight  thousand  para- 
sangs  long  and  broad,  is  the  dwelling-place  of  the  demons 


THE    ISLAND    OF    THE    MACREONS.  HI 

and  heroes  who  are  grown  old.  We  believe  that  one  of 
them  died  yesterday,  for  the  comet  which  we  saw  for  three 
or  four  days  before  shines  no  longer,  and  at  his  death  arose 
this  terrible  storm ;  for  while  they  are  alive,  all  happiness 
attends  both  this  and  the  adjacent  islands,  and  at  sea  is  a 
settled  calm  and  serenity.  At  the  death  of  any  one  of  them 
we  commonly  hear  in  the  forest  loud  and  mournful  lamenta- 
tions. We  see  on  land  pestilence,  disasters,  and  calamities  ; 
in  the  air  storms  and  darkness,  and  at  sea  tempest  and 
hurricanes." 

Pantagruel  remarks  that  the  heavens,  joyful  as  it 
were  for  the  approaching  reception  of  those  blessed 
souls,  make  bonfires  with  comets  and  blazing  meteors, 
which,  at  the  same  time,  serve  as  a  prognostication  to 
us  that  in  a  few  days  one  of  those  venerable  souls  is 
to  leave  her  body  and  this  terrestrial  globe. 

"  I  am  willing  to  believe  what  Macrobius  has  told  us  ot 
the  comet  seen  in  the  air  for  certain  days  before  the  death 
[of  the  demigod].  For  such  souls  are  so  noble,  so  precious, 
so  heroic,  that  the  heavens  give  a  signification  of  their  death 
beforehand.  And  just  as  the  prudent  physician,  seeing  by 
certain  signs  his  patient  enter  upon  the  way  of  death,  warns 
the  wife,  children,  relatives,  and  friends  some  days  before 
the  impending  death,  so  that  in  the  short  time  which  remains 
they  may  admonish  him  to  set  order  in  his  household,  to  ex- 
hort and  bless  his  children,  to  recommend  the  state  of  widow- 
hood to  his  wife,  to  declare  what  will  be  necessary  for  the 
maintenance  of  his  wards,  and  so  be  not  surprised  by  death 
without  taking  due  thought  for  his  soul  and  for  his  house  : 
in  like  manner  the  benevolent  heavens,  as  if  joyous  at  the 
reception  of  these  blessed  souls,  seem  to  hold  forth  fires  of 
joy  by  means  of  comets  and  meteors,  which  they  wish  to  be 
for  men  a  sure  and  certain  prognostic  and  prediction,  that 
within  a  few  days  these  venerable  souls  will  leave  their 
bodies  and  the  earth.     .     .     .     Thus,  by  such  comets,  tl  e 


142  RABELAIS. 

silent  heavens  say, c  Mortal  men,  if  you  wish  to  know  any- 
thing from  these  happy  souls,  to  learn  anything  touching  the 
welfare  of  yourselves  or  of  the  state,  make  haste  to  ask  them 
and  to  have  their  answer.  For  the  end  and  catastrophe  of 
the  comedy  approaches.  This  moment  passed,  you  will  re- 
gret them  in  vain.' 

" '  But,'  asks  Friar  John,  c  are  these  heroes  and  demigods 
mortal  ? ' 

'"  Some  think,'  replies  Pantagruel, '  that  the  life  of  a  demi- 
god reaches  to  9720  years,  but  I  am  of  opinion  that  all  in- 
tellectual souls  are  exempted  from  the  scissors  of  Atropos. 
They  are  all  immortal,  whether  they  be  of  angels,  of  demons, 
or  human." 

Then  follows,  with  other  grave  and  thoughtful  matter, 
the  weird  story,  taken  from  Plutarch,  of  the  death  of  the 
great  god  Pan. 

It  must  be  owned  that  this  island  of  Macreons  is 
obscure.  Who  are  these  demigods,  and  what  does  Ra- 
belais mean  by  their  death  and  the  storm  which  fol- 
lows? 

Most  of  the  proposed  interpretations  of  this  riddle  are 
too  foolish  to  be  considered  for  a  moment.  The  follow- 
ing solution  only  half  satisfies  one.  It  is,  however, 
thoughtful,  and  well  worthy  of  Rabelais.1 

The  demigods,  lingering  among  ruined  temples  and 
tombs,  in  a  dark  and  obscure  forest,  surrounded  by  a 
simple  folk  who  know  nothing  of  the  past,  but  yet  re- 
gard their  mysterious  neighbours  with  awe  and  wonder, 
are  the  philosophers,  historians,  and  poets  of  the  ancient 
world.  They  lie  there,  neglected  and  forgotten.  Their 
death  is  nothing  but  the  passage  from  obscurity  into  the 
light  of  the  Renaissance,  and  as  each  in  turn  emerges 

1  Fleury,  vol.  ii.  p.  154. 


QTJARESME-PREN  ANT.  143 

into  the  upper  air,  he  produces  his  own  effect  upon  the 
world  by  upsetting  old  prejudices,  introducing  new  ideas, 
and,  in  a  sense,  causing  storms,  revolutions,  and  dis- 
asters. "  I  would  not,"  says  Eabelais,  speaking  in  the 
mouth  of  Pantagruel,  "  have  missed  the  sufferings  of  the 
storm  were  I  also  to  have  missed  the  relation  of  those 
things."  Rage  of  ignorant  monks,  persecution  of  ortho- 
dox doctors,  misrepresentation,  calumny, — all  these  may 
be  cheerfully  incurred  by  those  who  have  the  key — in 
Greek,  and  Latin,  and  Hebrew — to  the  brave  teaching 
of  the  great  men  of  old. 

Leaving  the  land  of  the  long-lived,  they*  set  sail,  re- 
freshed and  newly  victualled.  Presently  Xenomanes 
the  traveller  points  out,  quite  visible  on  the  horizon, 
the  island  of  Tapinois  ("  Sly  -  land "),  where  reigns 
Prince  Quaresme-prenant,  the  personification  of  Lent. 
But  Xenomanes  advises  Pantagruel  not  to  attempt 
a  landing  on  the  island  on  account  of  the  cold  re- 
ception and  meagre  fare  he  will  receive  there.  And 
here  Rabelais  pours  out  the  vials  of  his  wrath  on  the 
enforced  fasting  of  Lent.  The  season  of  Lent  was  to 
the  esprits  forts  of  the  time  exactly  what  the  pinch  of 
incense  was  to  the  early  Christians — the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  conformity.  It  was  also,  for  the  orthodox, 
the  chief  weapon  of  persecution.  They  must  fast — fast 
openly  before  men,  and  even  privately,  for  fear  of  spies, 
or  they  must  burn.  It  was  one  of  the  charges  brought 
against  Dolet,  and  figuring  in  the  indictment  along  with 
the  heavier  accusation  of  blasphemy  and  atheism,  that 
he  had  broken  the  laws  of  Lent.  It  was  on  a  similar 
charge  that  Marot  had  to  fly. 

"  Do  not  go  ashore,"  said  Xenomanes.    "  You  will  onlv 


Ui  RABELAIS. 

see  a  great  devourer  of  grey  peas ;  a  great  hay  bottler  ; 
a  mole-catcher,  deceiver  of  folk  blinded  by  ignorance ;  a 
standard-bearer  of  the  ichthyophagists  " — because  Lent 
is  the  season  for  fish;  "  grinder  of  ashes  " — because  Lent 
begins  on  Ash  Wednesday ;  "  flogger  of  children  " — be 
cause  Lent  is  a  sad  and  sour  season ;  "  father  and  foster- 
father  of  physicians  " — because  the  imposition  of  this 
long  fast  is  the  cause  of  so  many  diseases,  swarming  with 
pardons  and  indulgences;  "a  very  honed  man,  a  good 
Catholic,  and  of  great  devotion. 

He  weeps,  this  cheerful  Prince  Quaresme-prenant,  three- 
fourths  of  the  day,  and  assists  at  no  weddings.  He  lives 
on  things  that  are  salt  and  without  nourishment ;  and  as 
for  his  clothes,  he  wears  "  grey  and  cold,  nothing  before, 
nothing  behind,  and  sleeves  to  match." 

Xenomanes,  after  promising  that  they  may  possibly 
meet  this  devout  Christian  at  the  land  of  the  Chitterlings 
— his  sworn  enemies — continues  to  describe  his  appear- 
ance, manners,  and  customs,  in  a  long  list  which  lasts 
for  three  chapters,  so  joyfully  does  Rabelais  pour  out  hia 
indignation  at  this  superstition. 

"  His  memory  is  like  a  scarf  ; 
His  common-sense  is  as  the  buzzing  of  bees  ; 
His  imagination  like  a  peal  of  bells  ; 
His  understanding  like  a  torn  breviary ; 
His  will  like  three  nuts  in  a  dish ; 
His  judgment  like  a  shoeing  horn  ; 
His  thoughts  like  a  flight  of  starlings  ; 
His  ideas  like  snails  crawling  out  of  strawberries; 
His  reason  like  a  three-legged  stool." 

With  six  columns  of  mad  similitudes,  and  then  half  a 
page  of  wild  absurdity. 


THE    HARMONY    OF    NATURE.  145 

"What  is  yet  more  strange,  he  works,  doing  nothing,  and 
does  nothing  though  he  works ;  he  corybantises  sleeping,  and 
sleeps  corybantising — that  is,  with  his  eyes  open  like  the  hares 
of  Champagne,  for  fear  of  being  surprised  by  the  Chitter- 
lings, his  ancient  enemies  ;  he  eats  nothing  fasting,  and  fasts 
eating  nothing ;  he  drinks  in  imagination,  swims  on  the  top 
of  steeples,  dries  his  clothes  in  ponds,  fears  his  own  shadow 
and  the  cries  of  fat  kids,  and  plays  with  his  own  belt." 

This  description  reminds  Pantagruel  of  an  apologue 
which  he  has  read  somewhere,  and  of  which  Eabelais 
leaves  the  application  to  the  reader. 

"  Physis,  which  is  Nature,  had  two  daughters  called  Beauty 
and  Harmony.  Antiphysis,  who  is  always  in  opposition  to 
Nature,  produced  two  daughters,  named  Abnormal  and  Dis- 
cordant. Their  heads  were  round  like  a  ball,  and  not  gently 
compressed  on  both  sides  in  human  shape.  Their  ears  stood 
pricked  up  like  the  ears  of  an  ass  ;  their  eyes  sticking  out 
of  their  heads,  were  placed  upon  bones  like  heels,  without 
eyebrows,  hard  like  crab's  eyes ;  their  feet  were  round  like 
tennis-balls;  their  arms  and  hands  turned  behind  towards 
the  shoulders ;  and  they  walked  on  their  head,  turning  con- 
tinually round  like  a  wheel,  topsy-turvy,  heels  over  head 
their  feet  in  the  air. 

"Yet  Antiphysis  extolled  her  offspring,  and  strove  to 
prove  that  their  shape  was  handsomer  and  neater  than  that  of 
the  children  of  Physis,  saying  that  thus  to  have  spherical 
heads  and  feet,  and  to  walk  in  a  circular  manner  like  a 
wheel,  had  something  in  it  of  the  perfection  of  the  divine 
power,  which  makes  all  things  eternally  turn  in  that 
fashion  ;  and  that  to  have  our  feet  in  the  air  and  the  head 
below  was  to  imitate  the  Creator  of  the  universe — the  hair 
being  like  the  roots  and  the  legs  the  branches  of  man  :  for 
trees  are  better  planted  by  their  roots  than  they  would  be 
by  their  branches.  ...  As  for  the  arms  and  hands,  she 
pretended  to  prove  that  they  were  more  justly  turned  to- 
wards the  shoulders,  because  that  part  of  the  body  ought  not 

F.C. VIII.  K 


146  EABELAIS. 

to  "be  without  defence  while  the  forepart  is  duly  fenced  with 
teeth,  which  a  man  can  use  to  defend  himself  against  attack 
as  well  as  to  chew  with.  Thus  she  drew  all  fools  and  sense- 
less persons  into  her  opinion,  and  was  admired  by  all  brain- 
less persons,  and  those  bereft  of  common-sense." 

The  offspring  of  Antiphysis  are  all  those  who  would 
impose  laws  of  life  contrary  to  those  of  nature,  as  is 
done  especially  by  the  priests  and  monks  of  the  Church. 
The  children  of  nature  are  the  beauty  and  harmony  of 
all  her  laws,  in  the  discovery  and  obedience  of  which 
alone  may  be  found  the  perfection  of  life. 

The  next  land  made  is  the  Isle  Farouche  —  Wild 
Island  —  inhabited  by  the  deadly  enemy  of  Prince 
Quaresme-prenant,  the  Chitterlings.  Pantagruel  would 
have  attempted  a  reconciliation  between  the  foes,  but 
was  dissuaded  by  Xenomanes,  who  pointed  out  the  im- 
possibility of  ever  bringing  them  to  an  understanding, 
so  great  is  their  mutual  hatred.  Four  years  before,  it 
is  true,  there  was  some  kind  of  truce,  but  since  the 
Council  of  Chesil  (Council  of  Trent)  the  old  enmity  has 
been  revived  with  tenfold  bitterness. 

While  they  talk  the  Chitterlings  are  discerned  half  a 
league  off,  marching  on  them,  in  number  forty-two  thou- 
sand or  thereabouts.  Pantagruel  calls  a  hasty  council  of 
war,  and  Epistemon  thinks  they  may  be  coming  out  in 
force  merely  as  a  friendly  welcome ;  but  the  Prince — ho 
is  never  so  far  surprised  or  hurried  as  to  neglect  his  clas- 
sical illustrations  —  after  reciting  a  few  passages  from 
history,  in  which  he  shows  that  the  pretence  of  a  friendly 
welcome  has  often  been  made  the  excuse  for  a  treacher- 
ous attack,  sends  Gymnast  and  Carpalini  to  fetch  soldiers 
from  the  ships.     Panurge  volunteers  to  go  instead  of 


THE   BATTLE    WITH    THE    CHITTERLINGS.        147 

Gymnast.  "  By  the  frock  that  I  wear,"  cries  Friar  John, 
"  you  want  to  get  out  of  the  fight,  and  wiU  not  come 
back.  It  is  no  great  loss ;  he  would  do  nothing  here  but 
blubber,  lament,  cry,  and  dishearten  the  brave  soldiers." 
"  I  will  certainly  come  back,  my  ghostly  father,"  says 
Panurge,  making  off  as  fast  as  he  could.  "  Only  take 
care  that  the  Chitterlings  do  not  board  the  ships.  While 
you  fight  I  wiU  pray  God  for  your  victory,  after  the  ex- 
ample of  the  chivalrous  captain  Moses,  leader  of  the 
people  of  Israel." 

Pending  the  arrival  of  the  soldiers,  the  excellent 
Prince  Pantagruel  discourses  on  the  ancient  practice  of 
foretelling  by  names,  with  a  digression  on  dreams.  Then 
the  army  of  Chitterlings  arrive,  and  at  once  show  that 
they  have  come  with  hostile  intent.  The  victory  is  won 
by  Friar  John  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  valiant  cooks, 
and  all  the  Chitterlings  would  have  been  destroyed  but 
for  the  arrival  of  a  flying  hog,  at  sight  of  whom  the 
Chitterlings  aU  fell  upon  their  knees  in  adoration,  for 
this  was  carnival.  Peace  was  made  with  the  queen  of 
the  island,  which  became  tributary  to  the  great  Gar- 
gantua,  and  the  expedition  went  on  its  way. 

The  madness  of  the  Isle  Farouche,  and  the  Chitterling 
battle,  are  supplementary  to  the  description  of  Sly-land 
and  King  Quaresme-prenant.  Sly-land  may  be  taken 
for  the  country  of  the  fanatical  Catholics,  while  Wild 
Island  is  that  of  the  equally  fanatical  Protestants. 
Eabelais  and  his  friends  loved  neither  side.  Next  to 
these  islands  is  placed  that  of  Kuach  or  Wind,  in  which 
the  people  nourish  and  feed  themselves  wholly  on  wind : 
the  poor  by  means  of  fans ;  the  rich  by  windmills, 
beneath  which,  on  days  of  banquet,  they  sit  and  regal*1 


U8  RABELAIS. 

themselves,  discussing  the  different  varieties  and  qualities 
of  breezes  just  as  topers  talk  of  wines. 

An  island  whose  inhabitants  live  by  inhaling  the 
wind1?  This  opens  out  a  wide  field  for  interpretation. 
Those  people  who  are  carried  away  by  false  and  foolish 
hopes,  by  fond  enthusiasms,  by  promises  which  have 
and  can  have  no  foundation,  the  students  of  astrology 
and  alchemy,  the  casuists  and  metaphysicians  of  the  old 
school,  the  teachers  of  new  religions, — any  of  these,  and 
a  thousand  more,  may  stand  for  Rabelais's  people  of  the 
land  of  Ruach.  But  considering  that  we  are  in  a  theo- 
logical archipelago,  we  may  perhaps  assume  that  the 
people  in  this  island — a  quiet,  reflective,  and  gentle  race 
— represent  that  small  school  of  religious  and  specula- 
tive men  who  gathered  principally  about  the  little  Court 
of  Marguerite  —  Lefevre  d'Etaples,  Roussel,  Briconnet, 
and  their  friends — who  thought  to  keep  religion  free  from 
theology,  and  taught  their  flocks  that  a  life  of  personal 
holiness  was  the  only  walk  with  God.  For  this  school — 
gentle,  amiable,  and  pure-minded  as  it  was — the  practical 
Rabelais  had  little  sympathy  but  plenty  of  respect. 

The  next  place  is  that  of  Papefigues — Pope-fig-land — 
which  had  once  been  rich  and  prosperous,  but  was  now 
poor  and  miserable.  The  reason  of  the  decay  was  that, 
shortly  before,  some  of  them,  making  an  expedition  to 
the  neighbouring  island  of  Papimanie,  did,  on  the  ex- 
hibition of  the  Pope's  picture  for  the  adoration  of  the 
people,  make  a  gesture  of  contempt,  crying,  "Afig  foi 
it!"  In  revenge  for  this  insult  the  people  of  Papimanie 
invaded  Pope -fig -land  and  put  to  death  all  the  men, 
sparing  only  the  women  and  children.  This  leads  up  to 
a  story  of  how  a  young  and  ignorant  devil  was  cheated 


ISLAND    OF    PAPIMANIE.  149 

by  a  rustic  of  that  country.  It  may  be  read  in  La  Fon- 
taine's '  Tales.'  While  the  narrative  gives  Rabelais  an- 
other opportunity  of  deriding  Catholic  fanatics,  we  may 
again  note  that  he  shows  no  sympathy  with  the  Protest- 
ants. That  the  islanders  of  Pope-fig-land  are  now  poor, 
miserable,  and  persecuted,  is  a  natural  return  for  their 
stupidity  in  laughing  at  the  Pope  when  they  were  not 
strong  enough  to  fight  his  worshippers. 

Pantagruel  makes  but  a  short  stay  in  this  desolate 
country,  and  proceeds  to  the  blessed  island  of  Papimanie. 
As  soon  as  the  anchor  was  dropped  a  boat  put  off  from 
shore,  in  which  were  four  persons — a  monk,  a  falconer,  a 
lawyer,  and  a  vine-dresser,  representing  the  Church,  the 
landowners,  the  law,  and  agriculture,  the  four  estates  of 
mankind — and  hails  the  ship. 

" '  Have  you  seen  him,  travellers  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?' 

fl '  Seen  whom  1 '  asks  Pantagruel. 

"  <  Him.' 

"  '  Who  is  he,  then  V  cries  Friar  John.  '  Par  la  mort  bceuf, 
I  will  smash  him ' — thinking  it  was  some  robber,  murderer, 
or  church-breaker. 

"  '  How  then  V  they  cry.  '  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not 
know  the  Unique  one  ?    We  mean — He  that  is.' 

"  '  He  that  is,'  returned  Pantagruel,  '  is  God  who  in  such 
words  revealed  Himself  unto  Moses.  We  never  saw  Him, 
nor  can  He  be  beheld  by  mortal  eyes.' 

"  '  We  do  not  mean  that  Supreme  God,'  they  reply,  '  who 
rules  in  heaven.  We  speak  of  the  God  who  lives  on  the 
earth.' 

" '  Surely  they  mean  the  Pope,'  says  Carpalim. 

"  *  Yes,  yes,'  cries  Panurge  ;  '  oh  yes,  I  have  seen  three 
of  them — much  better  am  I  for  the  sight.' 

"  *  0  thrice  and  four  time3  happy  people ! '  they  cry.  '  You 
are  welcome,  and  more  than  welcome.' " 


150  RABELAIS. 

They  then  learned  that,  in  honour  of  their  having  seen 
the  Pope,  they  were  going  to  he  received  with  great  and 
special  honour.  In  fact,  the  whole  country  came  out  to 
meet  them  in  solemn  procession,  the  four  who  had  been 
in  the  boat  crying  out,  "  They  have  seen  him  !  they  have 
seen  him !  they  have  seen  him ! "  and  all  the  crowd 
kneeled  before  the  strangers  shouting,  "  0  happy  men ! 
0  most  happy!"  and  that  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour; 
while  the  schoolmaster  magisterially  flogged  the  boys, 
so  that  they  might  remember  the  joyful  occasion ;  and 
the  Bishop  of  the  island,  Homenas  by  name,  made 
haste  to  salute  them  with  all  episcopal  splendour,  his 
crosses,  banners,  standards,  and  holy-water  pots. 

The  Bishop  wanted  to  kiss  their  feet,  but  this  Panta- 
gruel  would  not  allow.  He  then  invited  them  to  go  to 
Church,  after  which  they  would  feast.  In  the  porch 
hangs  a  book  above  the  reach  of  ordinary  men,  but  Pan- 
tagruel — he  is  no  longer  a  giant,  but  only,  like  Saul,  a 
head  and  shoulders  taller  than  his  companions  —  can 
reach  it.  The  book  is  gilt,  covered  with  precious  stones, 
and  hung  up  in  the  porch  by  two  massive  chains  of  gold. 
It  is  the  Book  of  the  Decretals,  a  collection  of  all  the 
Bulls  addressed  to  the  faithful  since  the  origin  of  the 
Papacy,  on  which,  especially  on  those  which  are  for- 
geries, the  Popes  base  their  claim  for  temporal  sove- 
reignty, and  the  right  of  political  dictation.  Pantagruel 
protested,  as  he  handled  it,  that  the  mere  touch  of  the 
book  made  him  long  mightily  to  go  forth  and  beat  one  or 
two  sergeants,  provided,  he  adds  piously — because  this 
kind  of  beating  was  ecclesiastically  forbidden — they  are 
not  tonsured.  Homenas  informs  them  that,  like  the 
image  of  Cybele,  that  of  Diana  of  Tauris,  the  ancile  of 


THE    DECRETALS.  151 

Numa  Pompilius,  and  the  oriflamme  of  France,  this  Book 
of  Decretals  came  straight  down  from  heaven,  having 
been  written  by  the  hand  of  an  angel.  And  because 
they  have  actually  seen  the  Pope,  the  Bishop  will  allow 
them  to  see  and  kiss  the  Decretals  on  the  inside,  but 
after  three  days'  fast. 

"'  Venerable  man,'  said  Panurge,  'we  have  seen  plenty  of 
Decretals  on  paper,  on  parchment,  and  on  vellum,  written 
by  hand,  and  printed  from  type.  It  is  not  at  all  necessary 
that  you  give  yourself  the  trouble  to  show  us  this.  We  are 
contented  with  the  goodwill,  and  we  thank  you  for  it.' 

" '  Nay,'  replied  Homenas,  *  but  you  have  not  seen  this 
one,  written  by  the  angels.  Those  of  your  country  are  only 
transcripts  of  ours,  as  we  find  written  by  one  of  our  ancient 
Decretal  scholiasts.  For  the  rest,  I  entreat  you  not  to  con- 
sider my  trouble.  Only  consider  if  you  will  confess  and 
fast  just  three  pretty  little  days.' 

" '  As  for  confessing/  said  Panurge,  '  we  consent  to  that 
very  willingly.  Only  the  fasting  does  not  suit  us ;  for  we 
have  fasted  so  long  on  board  that  the  spiders  have  spun 
webs  across  our  teeth.  See  this  excellent  Friar  John ' — here 
Homenas  courteously  embraced  him — '  the  moss  is  growing 
in  his  throat  for  want  of  moving  and  exercising  his  chops.' 

"  '  It  is  true,'  said  Friar  John,  '  I  have  fasted  so  long  that 
I  am  grown  humpbacked.' 

'  Let  us  enter  the  church,  then,'  answered  Homenas  ; '  mid- 
day is  past,  but  I  will  say  you  a  low  and  dry  mass.' 

"  '  I  would  rather,'  said  Panurge,  '  have  one  washed  down 
by  some  good  Anjou  wine.     Push  on,  then.' 

"  The  mass  done,  the  Bishop  drew  a  bundle  of  keys  from 
a  trunk  near  the  high  altar.  With  them  he  opened  thirty- 
two  key-holes,  fourteen  padlocks,  and  an  iron  window, 
strongly  barred,  above  the  high  altar.  Then  with  great 
mystery  he  covered  himself  with  wet  sackcloth,  and  drawing 
a  curtain  of  crimson  cloth  showed  us  a  portrait,  painted  badly 
enough  according  to  my  opinion.     Then  he  touched  it  witb 


152  RABELAIS. 

a  long  stick,  and  made  all  of  us  kiss  the  part  of  the  stick 
which  had  touched  the  image. 

"  '  What  think  you  of  this  image  1 '  asked  the  Bishop. 

"  '  It  is  the  likeness  of  a  Pope/  said  Pantagruel ;  i  I  know 
him  by  the  tiara,  the  furred  amice,  the  rochet,  and  the 
slipper.' 

"  '  You  are  right,'  replied  the  Bishop.  *  It  is  the  picture 
of  that  good  God  on  earth,  whose  coming  we  devoutly  wait, 
and  whom  we  hope  one  day  to  see  in  this  country.  0  happy 
wished-for,  and  most  expected  day  !  and  happy,  most  happ\ 
you,  whose  propitious  stars  have  so  far  favoured  you,  that 
you  have  seen  the  living  and  real  face  of  this  God  on  earth  ! 
By  the  single  sight  of  his  picture  we  obtain  full  remission 
of  all  the  sins  which  we  remember,  and  a  third  part,  with 
eighteen -fortieths  besides,  of  the  sins  which  we  have  for- 
gotten.    But,  indeed,  we  only  see  it  on  annual  holidays.' " 

After  church  they  go  to  dinner,  when  the  service  is  per- 
formed by  young  girls  clad  in  white  albs  with  flowers  in 
their  hair.  These  serving-maids  sing  an  anthem  in  honour 
of  the  holy  Decretals,  after  which  the  excellent  Bishop 
falls  into  an  ecstasy  over  the  divinely  inspired  book. 

The  good  old  Bishop  S  He  is  a  type  of  the  honest 
narrow-minded  believer.  He  has  entire  faith  in  his 
nostrums.  He  has  pictured  a  world  all  peace  and  tran- 
quillity, full  of  good  things  to  eat  and  drink,  inhabited 
by  a  race  of  sheep-like  mortals,  who  follow  and  obey, 
content  to  be  well  fed  and  well  housed.  The  priest's 
idea  of  man  has  ever  been  as  of  a  drove  of  sheep.  We 
are  to  be  as  ignorant,  as  docile,  as  peaceful  as  the  flock 
of  bleating  wethers ;  we  are  to  have  as  little  care  as  they 
for  anything  except  plentiful  grass,  sunshine  after  shear- 
ing, and  safety  in  the  fold  from  the  wolf.  And  the 
distinguishing  mark  of  the  priest  in  all  ages,  in  all  re- 
ligions, and  in  all  countries,  is  that  he  can  never  think 


BISHOP    HOMENAS.  153 

of  himself  except  as  a  shepherd.  The  great  Shepherd  in 
the  mind  of  Bishop  Homenas  and  other  prelates,  priests, 
and  monks  of  his  creed,  is  not  the  Lord  of  Christen- 
dom, but  the  Pope  of  Eome. 

The  guests  of  the  good  Bishop  proceed  to  tell  stories 
which,  to  any  but  an  enthusiast,  would  have  seemed 
lacking  in  reverence  towards  that  sacred  book  of  the 
Decretals. 

Ponocrates  relates  how  a  gold-beater  at  Montpellier 
used  a  book  of  Decretals  to  beat  gold  between  the  leaves, 
and  how  the  gold-leaf  was  all  torn  and  spoiled. 

"Divine  vengeance  ! "  says  Homenas. 

Eudemon — it  is  a  very  long  time  since  we  have  heard 
of  this  excellent  young  man — tells  how  an  apothecary  of 
his  acquaintance  turned  a  set  of  the  Decretals  into  waste 
paper.  Everything  that  he  wrapped  in  them  became 
corrupted  and  spoiled. 

"  Mark,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  an  effect  of  divine  justice ! " 

Carpalim  remembers  how  a  tailor  of  Paris  cut  up  a 
set  of  Clementine  Decretals  into  patterns  and  measures. 
All  the  coats,  gowns,  hoods,  cloaks,  cassocks,  jerkins, 
jackets,  caps,  capes,  doublets,  or  farthingales  cut  accord- 
ing to  these  measures  were  hopelessly  ruined. 

"  Heavenly  wrath  ! "  says  Homenas. . 

Gymnast  relates  that  at  Cahusac,  a  shooting -match 
being  held,  one  of  the  leaves  of  a  set  of  Decretals  was  set 
up  to  be  shot  at  for  the  white.  No  one  could  hit  the 
mark.  Nay,  it  was  plainly  seen  by  some  that  a  bolt, 
making  straight  for  the  centre,  turned  aside  just  before 
reaching  it,  and  shot  exactly  seven  feet  four  inches  wide 
of  it  towards  the  bakehouse — Eabelais  is  nothing  unless 
he  can  give  exact  particulars. 


154  RABELAIS. 

"  Miracle  !  "  cried  Homenas,  in  a  rapture, — "  miracle ! 
Come  girls,  wine  here.  Gentlemen,  I  perceive  that  you 
are  sound  Christians." 

Ehizotomus  has  his  experience  with  the  rest,  although 
a  modest  man  as  a  rule,  for  he  hardly  speaks  except  on 
this  occasion.  He  was  once  acting  farces  and  interludes 
at  a  wedding,  and  to  make  masks,  he,  with  his  young 
companions,  took  the  leaves  of  an  old  Sextum  and  made 
holes  in  them  for  the  eyes  and  nose.  Would  you  believe 
it  1  When  they  took  off  the  masks  they  were  all  smitten 
with  some  disease.  One  had  smallpox,  one  the  measles, 
one  boils,  and  another  lost  his  teeth. 

"  Miracle ! "  shouted  his  lordship  the  Bishop,  — 
"  miracle ! " 

Presently  the  Bishop  falls  into  more  rapturous  discourse 
on  the  catholicity  of  France,  which  sends  at  least  400,000 
ducats  a  year  to  Borne.  It  is  all  done  by  the  Decretals. 
No  other  book  ever  written  could  draw  so  much  money 
from  the  country.  Yet  these  devilish  heretics  refuse  to 
acknowledge  the  virtue  of  a  book  which  has  such  power. 

The  next  adventure  is  the  well-known  and  often- 
repeated  story  of  the  Frozen  Words.  The  story  was 
taken  by  Babelais  from  the  '  Cortigiano '  of  Castiglione. 
It  has  been  reproduced  in  the  Travels  of  Munchausen. 

The  party  were  all  junketing,  tippling,  discoursing,  and 
telling  stories,  when  Pantagruel  suddenly  interrupts  them 
by  asking  them  whether  they  did  not  hear  voices  about 
them  in  the  air.  This  was  indeed  the  case.  Nothing 
was  to  be  seen,  and  yet  they  were  in  the  midst  of  sounds 
and  voices  of  men,  women,  children,  and  horses.  Panurge, 
in  a  great  fright,  clings  for  protection  to  Friar  John. 
Pantagruel  refers  to  Aristotle  and  Plato,  and  suggests 


THE    FROZEN    WORDS.  155 

they  may  be  somewhere  near  the  head  and  lyre  of 
Orpheus,  which  was  thrown  into  the  Hebrus  and  floated 
out  to  sea,  as  far  as  the  island  of  Lesbos,  where  the  head 
still  continued  uttering  doleful  cries,  the  lyre,  stirred  by 
the  wind,  playing  an  accompaniment.  He  is  wrong, 
however.  It  is  only  that  they  have  sailed  within  the 
confines  of  the  Frozen  Sea,  where  a  twelvemonth  or  so 
before  there  had  been  a  great  battle  between  two  native 
tribes,  and  as  the  war  took  place  in  winter,  the  noise  of 
the  conflict,  with  the  discharge  of  the  guns,  the  neighing 
of  horses,  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  naturally  froze, 
and  were  only  now  beginning  to  melt.  This  episode, 
like  those  of  the  great  sea -monster,  and  the  island  of 
wind,  admits  of  almost  every  kind  of  interpretation.  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  simply  told  as  an  amusing  story. 

We  come  next  to  an  island  which  is  rugged,  craggy, 
and  barren.  The  voyagers  land  with  difficulty,  and  with 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  climb  up  the  rocky  sides,  and 
find  themselves,  to  their  great  surprise,  when  they  reached 
the  top,  on  a  mountain  so  fertile,  so  pleasant,  and  so 
healthful,  that  they  think  they  must  have  arrived  at  the 
Earthly  Paradise. 

This  place  is  ruled  by  the  great  Gaster,  First  Master  of 
Arts  in  the  world.  And  here  follows  a  most  ingenious 
and  most  pleasantly  worked  out  apologue. 

Gaster,  the  stomach,  which  must  be  kept  daily  sup- 
plied, represents  Necessity,  the  cause  of  all  inventions, 
the  first  Master  of  Arts. 

"  We  were  obliged  to  do  reverence  and  honour,  and  sweai 
allegiance  to  that  chivalrous  king,  for  he  is  imperious, 
rigorous,  blunt,  hard,  and  inflexible  :  you  cannot  make  him 
believe  anything,  you  cannot  represent  anything  to  him,  or 


156  RABELAIS. 

persuade  him  of  anything.  He  does  not  hear  :  as  the  Egyp- 
tians said  that  Harpoerates,  the  god  of  silence,  had  no  mouth, 
so  Gaster  was  created  without  ears,  like  the  image  of  Jupiter 
in  Crete.  He  only  speaks  by  signs,  but  those  signs  are  more 
readily  obeyed  by  every  one  than  the  statutes  of  praetors,  or 
the  commands  of  monarchs  ;  neither  will  he  admit  the  least 
hindrance  or  delay  in  his  summons.  You  say  that  when  a 
lion  roars,  all  the  beasts  round  about,  as  far  as  his  roar  can 
be  heard,  tremble.  It  is  written,  it  is  true.  I  have  seen  it. 
I  assure  you,  that  at  Gaster's  command  all  the  heavens 
tremble,  and  all  the  earth  shakes  :  his  command  is  called, 
*  Do  this  at  once,  or  die  ! ' 

"  What  company  soever  he  is  in,  none  dispute  with  him  for 
precedence  or  superiority :  he  still  goes  first,  though  kings, 
emperors,  or  even  the  Pope,  were  there.  Every  one  is  pressed, 
every  one  labours  to  serve  him  ;  and  in  recompense,  he  does 
this  good  to  the  world,  that  he  invents  all  arts,  all  machines, 
all  trades,  all  engines,  and  all  crafts.  .  .  .  When  his 
regent  Penia  (Poverty)  takes  a  journey,  wherever  she  goes 
all  parliaments  are  shut  up,  all  edicts  suspended,  all  orders 
are  vain.  She  is  subject  to  no  law  ;  she  is  exempt  from  all 
law.  All  shun  her,  in  every  place  choosing  rather  to  expose 
themselves  to  shipwreck  at  sea,  and  to  pass  through  fire, 
over  mountains,  and  across  gulfs,  than  be  seized  by  her. 

"By  the  institution  of  nature,  bread  has  been  assigned 
him  for  provision  and  food,  with  this  blessing  of  heaven 
added,  that  he  should  never  want  the  means  of  procuring 
and  keeping  bread. 

"  At  the  beginning  he  invented  the  smith's  art  and  hus- 
bandry to  cultivate  the  ground,  that  it  might  yield  him  corn ; 
he  invented  arms  and  the  art  of  war  to  defend  corn  ;  medi- 
cine and  astrology,  with  the  necessary  mathematics,  in  order 
to  keep  corn  for  many  years  in  safety  from  the  injuries  of  the 
air,  destruction  by  beasts,  and  robbery  of  thieves  ;  he  in- 
vented watermills,  windmills,  handmills,  and  a  thousand 
other  engines  to  grind  corn  and  to  turn  it  into  meal ;  leaven 
to  make  the  dough  ferment,  salt  to  give  it  a  flavour  ;  fire  to 
bake  it,  and  clocks  and  dials  to  mark  the  time  of  its  baking. 


GREAT    GASTER.  157 

It  happened  that  grain  failed  in  one  country  ;  he  invented 
the  means  of  carrying  it  thither  out  of  another  country. 
He  invented  carts  and  waggons  more  commodiously  to  carry 
him  ;  since  the  seas  and  rivers  hindered  his  march,  he  in- 
vented boats,  galleys,  and  ships  to  navigate  sea  and  rivers, 
and  from  distant  nations  to  bring  corn  or  to  convey  it  thither. 
Thieves  and  robbers  stole  from  the  fields  the  corn  and  bread: 
— he  invented  the  art  of  building  cities,  forts,  and  castles, 
to  lock  it  up  and  keep  it  in  safety.  On  the  other  hand, 
finding  no  corn  in  the  fields,  and  hearing  that  it  was  kept 
in  castles  and  watched  with  more  care  than  even  were  the 
golden  apples  of  the  Hesperides,  he  invented  the  art  of  beat- 
ing down  and  demolishing  forts  and  castles,  battering-rams-, 
ballistas,  and  catapults.  And  seeing  that  sometimes  all  these 
tools  of  destruction  were  baffled  by  the  cunning  subtilty  of 
fortifiers,  he  invented  cannon,  field -pieces,  and  culverines, 
which  hurl  iron,  leaden,  and  brazen  balls,  some  of  them  out- 
weighing huge  anvils.  And  this  he  effected  by  means  of  a 
most  dreadful  powder,  by  whom  Nature  herself  is  amazed, 
and  has  confessed  herself  outdone  by  Art." 

There  are  other  inventions  and  discoveries  of  this 
great  monarch,  but  these  are  due  rather  to  Babelais's 
extensive  reading,  and  to  his  firm  belief  that  classical 
books  cannot  lie,  than  to  any  practical  knowledge  which 
he  had  of  them.  For  instance,  Pliny's  herb  ethiojris, 
which  opens  all  locks ;  the  remora,  which  is  able  to  stop 
in  her  course  the  greatest  ship  ever  launched ;  that 
nameless  herb  which  has  the  power  of  drawing  out  the 
heaviest  wedge,  however  firmly  planted  in  an  oak ;  the 
dittanv,  which  makes  the  arrows  fall  from  the  sides  of 
wounded  deer;  the  plant  which  will  draw  rain  from 
heaven,  and  that  which  will  keep  the  rain  from  falling, 
— of  all  these  things  we  may  say,  as  the  country  squire 
said  of  Gulliver,   that  we   do   not   believe    one   word. 


158  RABELAIS. 

Rabelais,  however,  on  the  faith  of  Pliny,  a  naturalist 
like  himself,  with  the  enormous  additional  advantage 
of  being  a  classic,  does  seem  to  believe  these  things. 

Among  the  people  of  this  Earthly  Paradise  were  two 
sorts   of    folk   whom    Pantagruel   excessively   disliked. 
These  were  the  Engastrimyths,  who  were  ventriloquists, 
and  deluded  the  people  by  pretending  to  be  soothsayers ; 
and  the  Gastrolaters,  who  worshipped  a  god  consisting 
chiefly  of  head  and  mouth,  called  Manduce  (manducare, 
to  chew).     They  were  accustomed  to  offer  banquets  to 
this  god,  just  as  in  other  religions  prayers  and  incense 
are  offered.     Rabelais  pleases  himself  with  an  account  of 
one  of  these  banquets,  or  rather  with  giving  the  menu, 
which  is,  after  the  Rabelaisian  fashion,  in  many  columns, 
and  embraces  every  kind  of  dish — flesh,  fish,  or  fowl. 
It  is  pleasant  to  consider  that  the  choice  of  dishes  open 
to  a  chef  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  as  great  as  those 
of  the  present  day.     Under  the  soothsayers  and  guzzlers 
we  may  be  permitted  to  see  once  more  the  hood  of  the 
monk. 

After  leaving  the  land  of  Maitre  Gaster,  they  were 
becalmed  off  an  island  called  Chaneph,  or  Hypocrisy, 
where  dwelt,  according  to  Xenomanes,  hypocrites,  holy 
mountebanks,  sham  saints,  hermits,  and  such — all  of 
them  living  on  alms. 

After  this  they  pass  by  the  land  of  Thieves,  where 
Friar  John  wished  to  land  in  order  to  make  a  clearance 
of  the  whole  population;  but  Pantagruel  would  not 
allow  it.  The  Fourth  Book,  which  would  fitly  have 
ended  with  the  adventure  of  King  Gaster,  concludes 
with  a  story  of  Panurgic  cowardice. 

The  Fifth  and  last  Book  was,  as  we  have  seen,  pub- 


THE    FIFTH    BOOK.  159 

lished  ten  years  after  the  death  of  Rabelais.  Its  author- 
ship has  been  disputed.  The  internal  evidence,  how- 
ever, seems  to  me  to  point  with  certainty  to  the  master's 
hand.  It  may  very  well  be  that  portions  are  not  his ; 
and  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  whole  wants  the  author's 
revision. 

We  have  seen  that  the  frolic,  merriment,  and  abandon 
of  the  Third  Book  are  greatly  lacking  in  the  Fourth.  Yet 
even  here  Rabelais  writes  in  cheerful,  even  sometimes 
in  jovial  mood.  It  is  different  with  the  chapters  which 
form  the  Fifth  Book.  Here  the  old  man  is  bitter  and 
angry.  The  last  runnings  of  the  noble  barrel  are  clear 
and  sound  as  the  first,  but  they  have  lost  their  sparkle. 
Death  stared  him  in  the  face ;  the  world  looked  blacker 
than  ever;  superstition  was  more  powerful  and  more 
cruel ;  the  extension  of  classical  knowledge  had  brought 
as  yet  no  alleviation  of  human  misery;  priests  and 
monks  were  as  rapacious,  as  exacting,  as  stupidly  dog- 
matic as  in  the  good  old  days  when,  at  forty  years  of 
age,  he  burst  into  the  world,  prepared  to  see  all  man- 
kind become  suddenly  as  wise,  as  eager  for  common 
sense,  as  zealous  for  learning,  as  ardent  for  reform,  as 
himself. 

The  supposed  editor  was  a  certain  Jean  Turquet.  At 
the  head  of  the  Book  were  four  lines — 

"  Doth  Kabelais  in  the  dark  grave  lie  ? 
His  soul  still  lives  :  he  brings  again 
Another  book  :  grim  fate  in  vain 
Cut  short  his  days  :  he  cannot  die." 

This  quatrain  is  signed  by  the  anagram,  Nature  Quite, 
in  which  the  name  of  Jean  Turquet  is  easily  distinguish- 


160  RABELAIS. 

able.  Henry  Stephen  is  supposed  to  have  assisted  in 
the  publication,  but  without  any  valid  reason  that  one 
can  discover. 

The  Book  continues  the  voyage  without  any  break. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  the  Isle  of  Thieves, 
land  was  seen.  The  pilot — it  is  remarkable  that  not 
only  Xenornanes  the  traveller,  but  also  the  pilot,  is  quite 
familiar  with  these  unknown  seas— announces  that  it  is 
the  He  Sonnante,  or  Isle  of  Ringing ;  and  indeed  they 
began  to  hear  a  confused  jangling  as  of  many  bells  all 
rung  at  once.  Some  of  them  suggested  that  it  was 
Dodona  with  its  caldrons,  or  the  portico  called  Hepta- 
phone  in  Olympia,  or  the  eternal  murmur  of  the  Colossus 
raised  on  Memnon's  tomb,  or  the  din  which  used  to  be 
heard  round  a  sepulchre  at  Lipara,  one  of  the  iEolian 
islands.  Pantagruel  thought  that  it  might  be  the 
swarming  of  bees,  the  neighbours  having  turned  out 
with  pans,  kettles,  and  basins  to  call  them  back.  As 
the  vessel  drew  nearer,  they  thought  they  could  discern 
the  singing  of  men.  Pantagruel  was  of  opinion,  under 
these  doubtful  circumstances — it  does  not  occur  to  any 
one  to  consult  the  pilot,  who,  as  he  knew  the  name  of 
the  island,  would  probably  know  something  more  about 
it — that  they  should  first  send  the  pinnace  to  a  small 
rock  whereon  was  a  hermitage.  The  hermit  was  a 
certain  Braguibus,  a  man  from  Poitou  —  it  does  not 
appear  how  he  got  there — who  made  them  fast  for  four 
days  before  he  would  admit  them  upon  the  island. 
Having  happily  got  tln-ough  the  four  days'  penance,  they 
started  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  see  the  chief  of 
the  island,  a  Master  iEdituus,  who  was  old  and  bald, 
with  a  nose   well  illuminated,  and  a  face  of  crimson. 


&D1TUUS.  161 

But  he  made  the  whole  party  welcome,  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  hermit,  and  gave  them  dinner. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  island,  iEdituus  proceeds  to  tell 
Pantagruel,  were  originally  Siticines — that  is,  musicians 
and  singers  at  funerals  —  but  as  everything  in  nature 
is  subject  to  change,  they  had  become  birds.  When 
this  transformation  took  place,  they  went  into  cages  and 
stayed  there. 

"  The  cages  were  spacious,  rich,  and  of  admirable  archi- 
tecture. The  birds  were  large,  fair,  and  polite,  resembling 
the  men  in  my  country.  They  ate  and  drank  like  men  ; 
they  digested  like  men  ;  they  slept  and  snored  like  men  ;  in 
short,  at  first  sight  you  would  have  said  that  they  were  men. 
However,  they  were  not  men  at  all,  as  j^Edituus  informed  us  ; 
assuring  us,  at  the  same  time,  that  they  were  neither  secular 
nor  lay  men  :  certainly  their  plumage  puzzled  us  ;  for  some 
were  all  over  white,  others  all  black,  others  grey,  others  black 
and  white,  some  red,  and  others  blue  and  white  :  it  was  a 
beautiful  sight  to  see.  The  males  he  called  clergaux, 
monagaux,  prestregeaux,  abbegaux,  evesgaux,  cardingaux,  and 
papegaut,  who  is  unique  in  his  kind.  The  females  he  named 
clergesses,  monagesses,  prestregesses,  abbegesses,  evesgesses,  car- 
dingesses,  papegesses.     .     .     . 

"  We  asked  Maitre  JEdituus,  seeing  the  multiplication  of 
these  venerable  birds  in  all  these  kinds,  why  there  was  only 
one  papegaut?  He  replied  that  such  was  the  first  institu- 
tion and  fatal  destiny  of  the  stars  ;  that,  without  marriage, 
of  the  clergaux  were  born  the  prestregaux  and  monagaux.  Of 
the  vrestregaux  were  born  the  evesgaux,  of  these  the  beautiful 
cardingaux,  and  the  cardingaux,  unless  prevented  by  death, 
ended  in  papegaut.  When  the  papegaut  dies,  another  rises 
in  his  stead  out  of  the  whole  brood  of  cardingaux.  So 
that  there  is  in  that  species  an  individual  unity  with  a 
perpetuity  of  succession,  neither  more  nor  less  than  in  the 
Arabian  phcenk. 

F.C. — VIII  L 


162  RABELAIS. 

"  We  then  asked  what  moved  these  birds  to  be  continually 
chanting  and  singing  ?  He  answered  that  it  was  the  bells 
which  hung  on  the  top  of  their  cages.  Then  he  said  to  us, 
'  Will  you  have  me  make  these  monagaux,  whom  you  see 
hooded  with  a  bag,  sing  like  any  wood-larks  ? '  He  then 
rang  the  bell  six  times  ;  and  the  monagaux  began  to  run, 
and  the  monaga,ux  began  to  sing.  Said  Panurge,  '  If  I  ring 
this  bell,  could  I  make  these  other  birds  with  the  red- 
herring  plumage  sing  ? '  '  Just  in  the  same  way,'  returned 
iEdituus.  Panurge  rang,  and  suddenly  these  birds  ran 
together  and  began  to  sing,  but  their  voices  were  hoarse  and 
displeasing." 

It  is  needless,  surely,  to  explain  that  the  He  Sonnante 
is  the  Church ;  that  the  cages  are  monasteries  and  con- 
vents; that  the  clergaux,  monagaux,  and  the  rest,  are 
clergy,  monks,  priests,  bishops,  and  cardinals ;  and  that 
the  bells  over  the  cages  are  the  chapel  bells,  at  sound  of 
which  they  rush  to  say  the  office  of  the  hour. 

"  *  Since/  said  Pantagruel,  *  you  have  told  us  how  tue 
papegaut  is  begotten  of  the  cardingaux,  and  so  on,  I  would 
gladly  know  whence  you  have  the  clergaux,  from  whom  they 
all  spring.' 

"  '  They  are  all  birds  of  passage,'  replied  iEdituus.  *  They 
come  to  us  from  the  other  world — part  from  a  marvellous 
country  called  Jour-sans-pain  (Breadless-day),  and  part  from 
another  called  Trop-d'itieux  (Too -many -of- them).  From 
these  two  countries  flock  hither,  every  year,  these  clergaux, 
leaving  their  fathers,  mothers,  friends,  and  relations.  The 
way  is  this  :  When  in  any  noble  house  of  the  latter  country 
there  are  too  many  children,  male  or  female,  so  that  if  the 
inheritance  were  to  be  divided  equally  among  all  (as  reason 
wills,  nature  orders,  and  God  commands),  the  house  would 
come  to  nothing,  the  parents  pack  them  off  to  this  island. 
Generally  they  are  hunchbacked,  one-eyed,  cripples,  maimed , 
gouty,  ill-shapen.  and  a  useless  burden  on  the  earth.'    '  tTial; 


THE    SINGING-BIRDS.  163 

interrupted  Pantagruel,  *  is  a  custom  entirely  contrary  to 
the  institutions  formerly  observed  in  the  reception  of  the 
Vestal  Virgins  ;  by  which,  as  is  attested  by  Labeo  Antistius, 
it  was  forbidden  to  elect  to  this  dignity  any  maiden  who  had 
any  defect  in  her  soul,  any  diminution  in  her  senses,  any  blot 
or  blemish,  however  secret  or  slight,  in  her  body.'  *  I  won- 
der,' said  iEdituus,  in  continuation,  'whether  the  mothers  over 
there  really  bear  their  children  for  the  customary  time,  seeing 
that  they  cannot  endure  them  at  home  for  nine  years,  gener- 
ally not  for  seven,  before  they  put  on  them  a  shirt  over  their 
frock,  cut  off  some  of  their  hair  from  their  heads,  with  certain 
magic  and  expiatory  words,  and  turn  them  into  birds  such 
as  you  see  them  here.  This  is  doubtless  the  reason  why  the 
females,  clergesses,  monagesses  and  abbegesses,  instead  of  singing 
fine  and  pleasant  songs,  such  as  used  to  be  sung  to  Osiris,  lift 
up  dismal  and  angry  chants  as  they  did  to  the  demon  Ari- 
manian,  and  continually  curse  parents  and  friends  who  trans- 
formed them  into  birds.' " 

While  they  ane  conversing  they  observe  a  number  of 
birds  of  a  very  different  plumage.  Their  feathers  were 
as  changeable  as  the  skin  of  the  chameleon,  but  all  of 
them  had  under  the  left  wing  a  mark  like  a  vertical  line 
falling  in  a  horizontal  line  (that  is,  a  cross),  but  the 
mark  was  in  different  colours.  These  are  gourmandeurs 
(a  very  bad  pun  on  commandeurs),  and  though  they 
cannot  sing,  they  can  devour.  These  are  the  knightly 
orders. 

When  they  have  seen  all  that  iEdituus  has  to  show, 
he  invites  them  to  a  four  days'  feast.  Friar  John  asks 
whence  comes  the  plenty  and  overflowing  of  all  good 
things  in  this  island,  where  no  one  sets  his  hand  to  the 
plough  or  tills  the  land,  or  does  anything  1  "  It  comes," 
replies  iEdituus,  "  from  all  the  other  world,  except  some 
part  of  the  northern  regions,  which  will,  ere  long,  have 


164  KABELAIS. 

reason  to  rue  their  refusal  to  continue  their  contributions. 
.  .  .  And  as  for  the  fine  time  we  have  in  this  world, 
that  is  nothing  compared  with  that  we  shall  have  in  the 
other.  The  Elysian  fields  will  be  the  least  that  can  fall 
to  our  lot.     Come,  in  the  meantime,  let  us  drink." 

At  midnight,  when  they  were  in  bed,  this  worthy 
representative  of  the  Church  wakes  them  with  the  offer 
of  more  drink,  reproaching  them  with  sloth  in  the  matter 
of  drinking,  and  before  dawn  he  rouses  them  again  for 
an  early  snack.  After  that  they  made  but  one  meal, 
which  lasted  all  day. 

On  the  third  day  of  this  continual  and  stupendous 
feed  Pantagruel  asked  if  they  could  not  see  the  Papegaut 
himself.  iEdituus,  after  some  difficulties,  conducted 
them  in  great  secrecy  and  silence  to  the  cage  in  which 
the  Papegaut  sat  perched,  accompanied  by  two  little 
cardingaux  and  six  fat  evesgaux.  Panurge,  the  irrepres- 
sible, likens  him  to  a  hoopoe.  "  Hush  !"  cries  iEdituus, 
"  if  he  once  hears  you  blaspheming  thus,  you  are  lost. 
Do  you  see  within  the  cage  a  basin1?  Thunder,  bolts 
and  lightning,  devils  and  tempests,  will  come  forth  of  it, 
by  which  you  will  be  in  one  moment  sunk  a  hundred 
feet  underground."  "  Better  drink  and  be  merry,"  said 
Friar  John.  Then  they  return,  but  on  their  way  they 
spy  a  fat  old  ewtgaut  sitting  asleep  and  snoring,  while 
near  them  sings  unheeded  a  buxom  abbegesse.  Panurge 
takes  a  stone  to  knock  the  senseless  bird  off  its  perch, 
but  iEdituus  restrains  him. 

"Hold,  my  friend.  Strike,  murder,  kill  all  kings  and 
princes  of  the  world  by  treason,  by  poison,  any  way  you 
please;  take  down  the  angels  from  the  heavens,  and  for 
all  you  shall  have  pardon  of  the  Papegaut.     But  touch  not 


MEANING    OF    THE    BIRDS.  165 

one  of  these  sacred  birds,  if  you  love  life,  happiness,  your 
relations  and  your  friends  living  and  dead.  Even  those  who 
are  born  after  you  will  suffer  for  it.     Remember  the  basin.5 

"  '  Let  us  rather  drink,  then/  said  Panurge. 

"'He  speaks  well,  Master  iEdituus,'  said  Friar  John. 
1  While  we  are  looking  at  these  devils  of  birds  we  do  nothing 
but  blaspheme,  but  while  we  are  emptying  the  bottles  and 
the  flagons  we  do  nothing  but  praise  the  Lord.  Let  us  then 
go  drink.' " 

And  so  they  take  leave  of  L'De  Sonnante.  Had  there 
been  by  this  time  left  a  shadow  of  doubt  of  the  hatred 
in  which  Rabelais  held  ecclesiastical  institutions,  this 
chapter  would  be  enough  to  dissipate  that  doubt.  The 
chief  office  of  the  Church  is  to  console,  fortify,  and 
encourage  the  dying,  and  to  say  masses  for  the  dead. 
Therefore  Rabelais  represents  the  birds  to  have  originally 
been  singers  at  funerals.  Certainly  in  the  next  page  he 
forgets  this  statement  and  assigns  another  origin,  but 
that  is  his  way.  The  birds  in  the  cages,  the  monks  and 
nuns,  priests,  bishops,  cardinals,  and  the  great  Pope  him- 
self, recruited  from  all  the  world,  kept  well  fed  and  fat 
by  all  the  world,  armed  with  thunder  and  lightning 
(kept  in  a  basin),  held  sacred  from  all  violence,  leading 
lives  of  pure  gluttony  and  selfish  indulgence,  without 
a  hint  of  religion,  morality,  learning,  or  work  of  any 
kind,  are  the  Church  as  Rabelais  conceived  it,  knew  it, 
and  drew  it  after  an  experience  of  seventy  years.  Not 
one  redeeming  feature,  no  possibility  in  his  mind  that 
this  dead  and  rotten  superstition  ever  had  or  would  again 
put  forth  green  shoots  and  umbrageous  branches.  The 
world  is  crushed,  cries  the  old  man  bitterly,  by  the 
Church.     Humanity  is  enslaved  by  priests. 

Tn  three  days  they  reach  the  uninhabited  Island  of 


166  RABELAIS. 

Tools,  in  which  the  trees  bear  mattocks,  pickaxes,  spades, 
sickles,  scythes,  swords,  daggers,  poniards,  &c.  They 
make  no  long  stay  here,  but  proceed  to  the  Island  of 
Play,  which  is  sandy,  barren,  and  unhealthy.  It  is 
also  so  lean  that  the  rocks  stand  out  of  the  ground  like 
bones  appearing  through  the  skin.  The  pilot  showed 
them  two  square  rocks  made  of  bone,  which  had  six 
equal  sides.  These  are  dice.  Twenty -one  devils  live 
there.  Twenty-one  devils  are  the  number  of  the  dice 
(1  +  2  +  3  +  4  +  5  +  6  =  21).  More  wrecks  have  happened 
about  these  square  rocks,  and  a  greater  loss  of  body  and 
goods,  than  about  the  Syrtes,  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and 
all  the  gulfs  and  whirlpools  in  the  world.  In  this  island, 
too,  is  carried  on  a  great  trade  with  relics  and  consecrated 
rubbish.  Why  Rabelais  should  have  placed  the  relic 
traffic  in  this  island  of  Play  does  not  appear.  Perhaps 
he  did  not,  and  it  may  have  been  an  addition  of  his 
editor,  or  a  mere  note  of  his  own  got  into  the  wrong 
place.  An  island  of  relics  and  holy  bones  would  have 
been  amusing.  They  arrive  next  at  the  island  of  Con- 
demnation. We  have  already  had  satires  on  the  admin- 
istration and  practice  of  civil  law.  We  now  come  to 
criminal  justice. 

The  judges  are  called  Chats  Fourres — Furred  Cats — 
and  they  are  thus  described  by  a  beggar  sitting  outside 
the  court : — 

"  They  grip  all,  devour  all,  pollute  all ;  they  burn,  bury, 
quarter,  behead,  murder,  imprison,  waste,  and  ruin  all  with- 
out distinction  of  right  or  wrong.  Among  them  vice  is 
called  virtue ;  wickedness,  piety  ;  treason,  loyalty ;  robbery, 
liberality.  Plunder  is  their  motto,  and  when  acted  by  them, 
is  approved  of  all  men,  except  the  heretics ;  and  they  do  all 


THE    FUKRED    CATS.  167 

this  with  authority,  sovereign  and  irrefragable.  ...  If 
ever  plague,  famine,  war,  fire,  earthquakes,  inundatiorB,  or 
other  judgments  befall  the  world,  do  not  attribute  them  to 
the  aspects  and  conjunctions  of  the  planets — to  the  tyranny  of 
kings — to  the  impostures  of  lying  zealots  of  the  cowl,  heretics, 
and  false  prophets — to  the  villany  of  usurers,  clippers,  and 
coiners — to  the  ignorance,  impudence,  and  imprudence  of 
physicians  and  surgeons ;  but  charge  them,  wholly  and  solely, 
to  the  inexpressible  and  incredible  wickedness  which  is  con- 
tinually practised  in  the  den  of  these  Furred  Cats." 

Panurge  and  Friar  John — Pantagruel  refuses  to  land 
at  this  detestable  port — speedily  find  themselves  arrested 
and  brought  before  the  principal  judge,  Grippeminaud. 
Over  his  seat  is  the  image  of  an  old  woman  in  spectacles, 
holding  in  her  right  hand  the  scabbard  of  a  sickle,  and 
in  her  left  a  balance.  The  scales  of  the  balance  were  a 
pair  of  velvet  pouches.  The  one  was  full  of  gold,  and 
outweighed  the  other,  which  was  empty  and  long. 
Grippeminaud  bullies,  swears,  and  rages  at  them.  Then 
he  asks  them  a  riddle,  and  in  the  end  he  lets  them  go, 
having  imposed  a  fine  of  all  the  gold  pieces  in  Panurge's 
purse. 

The  riddle,  the  want  of  coherence,  the  absence  of 
Rabelaisian  detail  in  the  description,  the  lack  of  merri- 
ment, the  invective,  all  together  make  one  believe  that 
the  chapters  on  the  "  Chats  Fourres "  were  not  written 
by  Rabelais  at  all ;  or  at  least  that  they  are,  as  they  stand, 
little  else  than  the  first  rough  draft,  which  he  had  no 
time  to  work  up.  As  they  stand,  they  read  like  a  bad 
dream.  We  are  as  glad  as  Panurge  to  get  out  of  that 
island  and  sail  away,  in  a  chapter  called  "  How  we 
passed  beyond,  and  Panurge  nearly  got  killed."  In  this 
island  the  people  are  all  boon  companions  like  leather 


168  RABELAIS. 

bottles  (outres),  who  grow  so  fat  that  they  are  fain  to 
cut  and  gash  themselves,  otherwise  their  skins  would 
burst.  In  fact  they  all  die  by  the  bursting  of  the  skin. 
There  is  nothing  to  show  how  Panurge  was  nearly  killed, 
and  the  chapter  has  apparently  no  connection  with  any- 
thing that  precedes  or  follows.  Whether  it  is  written  by 
Rabelais  or  not,  it  is  certainly  unfinished,  and  probably 
out  of  place. 

Just  as  a  mighty  tempest  overtook  the  travellers  before 
they  arrived  at  the  island  of  the  Macreons,  so  they  meet 
with  another  before  arriving  at  the  island  of  Metaphysics 
and  Philosophy.  The  description  of  this  second  storm  is, 
however,  a  sad  falling  off  from  that  of  the  first. 

They  then  make  the  island  of  the  Apedefts,  which  is 
a  very  dull  chapter  of  doubtful  authenticity  on  tax-col- 
lectors and  financiers. 

After  getting  through  the  storm,  they  run  ashore  on 
some  sands,  from  which  they  are  released  by  the  aid  of 
a  ship  which  fortunately  passes  by.  She  is  laden  with 
drums,  and  among  the  passengers  is  a  certain  astrologer 
named  Cotiral.  Being  asked  whom  they  have  on  board, 
Cotiral  says  that  they  are  astrologers,  fortune-tellers,  al- 
chemists, rhymers,  poets,  painters,  projectors,  mathe- 
maticians, clock-makers,  and  others,  all  subjects  of  Queen 
Quinte.  He  then  proceeds  by  means  of  floating  drums 
to  draw  off  the  ships  from  the  sand,  and  sets  them  afloat 
again.  Shortly  after  they  arrive  at  the  port  of  Matseo- 
techny  —  Vain  Art — in  the  kingdom  of  Queen  Ente- 
lecheia  (Perfection),  or  Quintessence,  abridged  into 
Quinte\  After  the  formality  of  putting  the  visitors 
through  a  kind  of  ordeal,  resembling  that  of  the  Gilead- 
ites  when  they  slew  the  men  of  Ephraim,  the  Captain  of 


ENTELECHEIA.  169 

the  Queen's  Guard  led  them  with  great  ceremony  into 
the  presence  of  the  Queen. 

Queen  Quintessence  (called  Queen  Whims  by  Mot- 
teux),  who  was  then  about  eighteen  hundred  years  of 
age,  having  been  born  in  the  time  of  Aristotle,  was 
handsome,  tall,  and  as  fair  a  queen  as  hand  could 
make.  She  was  also  still  in  the  bloom  and  pride  of 
youth.  Just  then,  attended  by  her  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, she  was  engaged  in  curing  the  sick ;  and  as  other 
kings  cure  scrofula  by  a  touch,  so  this  sovereign  heals 
all  disorders  by  merely  playing  on  the  organ. 

"While  we  were  examining  this  wonderful  organ,  the 
leprous  were  brought  in  ;  she  played  them  some  kind  of 
tune,  and  they  were  immediately  cured.  Then  those  who 
were  poisoned  were  had  in,  and  she  played  them  one  song, 
and  up  they  got.  Then  came  on  the  deaf,  the  blind,  and  the 
dumb,  and  they  received  the  same  treatment." 

The  strangers  were  so  overcome  by  this  astonishing 
spectacle  that  they  all — even  Pantagruel,  who  up  to  the 
present  point  has  shown  no  astonishment  at  anything, 
and  Panurge,  who  has  shown  no  reverence  for  anything 
— fall  prostrate  and  senseless.  On  their  recovery,  the 
Queen  addresses  them  in  high  -  flown  and  classical 
language : — 

"The  honestv  which  scintillates  in  the  circumference  of 
your  persons  makes  me  a  certain  judgment  of  the  virtue 
latent  in  the  centre  of  your  spirits  :  and  the  sight  of  the  mel- 
lifluous suavity  of  your  eloquent  reverences,  persuades  me 
easily  that  your  hearts  nourish  no  kind  of  vice  or  any  sterility 
of  liberal  and  lofty  science,  but  that  they  abound  in  various 
rare  and  peregrinic  disciplines,  which  at  present  it  is  the 
easier,  according  to  the  usages  of  the  vulgar  imperite,  to 
desire  them  to  meet  with ;  which  is  the  reason  why  f ,  mistress 


170  RABELAIS. 

by  the  past  over  any  private  affection,  am  now  unable  to 
contain  myself  from  uttering  the  trivial  worldly  words — ■  Be 
welcome,  yea,  thrice  welcome.' " 

As  they  answer  nothing,  the  Queen  concludes  that 
they  are  disciples  of  Pythagoras.  She  then  has  them 
conveyed  to  a  room,  where  they  are  nobly  entertained ; 
she  herself,  who  eats  nothing  but  abstractions,  second 
intentions,  transcendent  prolepsies,  and  such  other  light 
philosophical  food,  dining  apart. 

After  dinner,  they  observe  how,  with  the  ladies  and 
princes  of  her  court,  the  Queen  is  accustomed  to  sift 
time  with  a  fine,  large,  blue  silk  sieve ;  and  how  she  has 
revived  ancient  classical  sports  and  dances.  And  then 
they  are  shown  how  the  Queen's  servants  occupy  them- 
selves in  good  works  :  one  cured  toothache  by  the  simple 
process  of  removing  the  stump,  and  letting  it  dry  in  the 
sun ;  one  cured  fevers  by  hanging  a  fox-tail  in  the  left 
hand  of  the  patient ;  one  with  a  wonderful  contrivance 
turned  the  house  out  of  window;  one  cured  all  con- 
sumptive patients,  however  weak  and  wasted  they  might 
be,  by  the  simple  process  of  turning  them  into  monks 
for  three  months ;  and  "  we  were  assured  that  if  they  did 
not  grow  fat  and  plump  in  the  monastic  state  of  life, 
they  never  would  be  fattened  in  this  world,  either  by 
nature  or  by  art." 

The  greatest  benefactor,  however,  was  he  who  restored 
to  women  their  youth  and  beauty,  and  gave  back  to  the 
most  decrepit  and  the  most  wrinkled  the  graces  and 
charms  of  sixteen.  It  is  not  stated  what  method  he 
employed.  Panurge  asked  him  if  he  could  restore  old 
men  in  the  same  way.  He  could  not ;  but  it  was  always 
possible,  he  said,  for  old  men  to  become  young  by  one 


FOLLIES    OF    PHILOSOPHERS.  171 

of  the  newly-made  young  women  falling  in  love  with 
him. 

Others  of  the  Queen's  officers  made  black  men  white 
by  rubbing  them  with  the  bottom  of  a  basket. 

Others  sheared  asses,  and  thus  gut  long-fleece  wooL 

Others  gathered  grapes  off  thorns,  and  figs  off  thistles. 

Others  taught  cows  to  dance. 

Others  out  of  nothing  made  great  things,  and  made 
great  things  return  to  nothing. 

Others  cut  fire  into  steaks  with  a  knife. 

Others  drew  water  with  a  fish-net. 

Others  on  a  large  grass  plot  exactly  measured  hov* 
far  flame  can  go  at  a  hop,  step,  and  a  jump,  and  told  us 
that  this  was  exceedingly  useful  for  the  ruling  of  king- 
doms, the  conduct  of  armies,  and  the  administration  of 
commonwealths. 

Two  sat  in  a  tower  and  guarded  the  moon  from  wolves. 

In  the  evening  they  have  a  royal  supper,  and  after 
supper  there  is  a  ball  in  the  manner  of  a  tournament, 
which  is  an  exact  description  of  the  game  of  chess. 
And  when  the  tournament  was  over,  Queen  Quintessence 
suddenly  vanished  away  and  was  no  more  seen. 

There  is,  so  far,  in  the  last  Book,  no  mention  of  the 
purpose  with  which  the  voyagers  had  set  out.  The 
question  of  Panurge  appears  to  have  been  entirely  cast 
aside.  But  we  shall  find  that  it  has  not  been  forgot- 
ten, and  that  the  kingdom  of  Entelecheia  has  its  place. 
It  is  almost  needless  to  explain  that  the  island  repre- 
sents the  absurdities  of  the  scholastic  philosophers,  the 
waste  of  time  over  work  which  can  have  no  useful  re- 
sult, the  vain  pretences  of  sciolists,  and  the  vanity  of 
false  philosophy. 


172  RABELAIS. 

So  they  get  them  away  from  the  port  of  Mataeotechny, 
and  make  in  two  days  the  island  of  Roads  (Odes  =  0S01). 
In  this  remarkable  place  all  the  roads  are  moving.  The 
author  recognises  many  old  friends  among  them — Bourges 
highway  going  with  the  deliberation  of  an  abbot,  the 
old  road  between  Peronne  and  St  Quentin,  and  so  on 
Pantagruel  is  not  astonished  at  these  things, — nothing  is 
strange  in  a  world  where  so  many  strange  things  happen. 
Seleucus,  he  reminds  his  companions,  says  that  the  earth 
itself  moves  round  on  its  poles,  and  not  the  heavens  at 
all,  which  we  think  are  moving ;  just  as,  on  the  river 
Loire,  we  think  the  trees  and  the  shore  are  moving, 
though  this  is  only  an  effect  of  the  boat's  motion. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  the  roads  which  move  ?  The 
allegory  is  clumsy  and  far-fetched,  because  there  can 
be  but  one  meaning.  The  roads  which  carry  us  along 
by  their  own  movement  represent  the  wave  of  ideas  by 
which  we  are  borne  along. 

Next  we  come  to  the  He  des  Esclots — the  island  of 
wooden  clogs — where  is  a  monastery  newly  founded  of 
an  order  called  the  Humming  or  Mumbling  Friars. 
There  were  already  the  Minor  and  the  Minim  Friars, 
and  to  get  at  a  greater  depth  of  humility,  it  seemed  as  if 
there  could  be  nothing  left  but  the  Mumbling  Friars. 
These  pious  brethren  wore  shoes  as  round  as  basins ; 
they  shaved  their  chins  and  the  back  part  of  their  heads ; 
to  show  that  they  despised  fortune,  they  carried  a  razor 
at  their  waists ;  the  flap  of  their  cowls  hung  forward  in- 
stead of  backwards ;  the  hind  part  of  their  heads  was 
always  uncovered,  so  that  they  could  go  backwards  or 
forwards  ns  they  pleased.  Their  way  of  living  was  this  : 
about  owl-light  they  would  boot  and  spur  each  other ; 


THE    MUMBLING    FRIARS.  17 


D 


then,  the  least  they  could  do  was  to  sleep  and  snore. 
And  when  they  slept  they  wore  spectacles ;  and  the  reason 
was,  that  as  the  Day  of  Judgment  is  to  take  men  un- 
awares, they  were  to  be  always  booted,  spurred,  and  pro- 
vided with  their  spectacles  in  readiness.  They  rose  at 
morn ;  and  their  first  exercise,  after  they  had  taken  off 
their  boots  and  spurs  and  spectacles,  was  to  go  into  the, 
cloisters  and  yawn  altogether  by  signal.  Then  they 
went  in  procession,  mumbling  their  psalms  as  they  go. 
We  need  not  stay  to  decide  their  mode  of  living  and 
their  diet,  which  are  set  forth  in  great  detail.  Every 
useless  absurdity  that  can  be  devised  is  pressed  into  the 
service  of  this  unlucky  fraternity  as  a  rule  of  the  Order. 
Epistemon  takes  another  opportunity,  after  learning  all 
these  rules,  of  inveighing  against  the  observance  of 
Lent. 

"  All  distempers  are  sowed  in  Lent.  It  is  the  true  semi- 
nary and  native  bed  of  all  diseases.  Nor  does  it  only  weaken 
and  corrupt  bodies,  but  also  drives  souls  mad  and  uneasy. 
For  then  the  devils  do  their  best,  and  drive  a  subtle  trade, 
and  the  tribe  of  canting  hypocrites  comes  out  of  their  holes. 
It  is  then  term-time  with  them  ;  then  they  hold  high-day 
with  their  sessions,  stations,  pardons,  confessions,  whippings, 
and  anathematising8.     .     .     . 

"'Is  not  this  fellow/  Panurge  asks  of  Brother  Fredon- 
fredonnant - fredondille,  who  had  overheard  Epistemon,  'a 
rank  heretic?'" 

The  worthy  brother  answers  only  in  monosyllables : — 

"'Much/ 

"  *  Ought  he  not  to  be  burned  V 

"'  Ought' 

"  •  And  as  much  as  possible  V 

"'Yes.' 


174  RABELAIS. 

" '  "Without  any  parboiling  1 ' 
" l  None.' 

"'How  should  he  be  roasted?' 
"'Alive.' 

"'Till  at  last  he  be?' 
"'Dead.' 

" '  What  has  he  made  you  1  * 
"'Mad.' 

" '  What  do  you  take  him  to  be  V 
"'Fool.' 

" '  First,  how  would  you  have  him  served  ?' 
" '  Burned.' 

" '  Some  have  been  served  so  ? ' 
"'Many.' 

" '  And  the  number  of  those  who  are  to  be  warmed  thus 
hereafter  is  ? ' 
" '  Great.' 

" '  How  many  of  them  do  you  intend  to  save  ? ' 
'« '  None.' 

" '  So  you  would  have  them  all  burned  ? ' 
"'All.'" 

We  arrive  next  at  the  last  station  but  one  before  we 
come  to  Lantern  Land.  It  is  the  island  of  Satin,  a 
most  delightful  and  charming  country,  where  everything 
is  found  which  only  exists  in  fable,  fiction,  and  poetry. 
There  the  travellers  found  unicorns,  the  golden  fleece, 
the  chameleon  which  lives  on  air,  three  hydras,  fourteen 
phoenixes,  the  skin  of  Apuleius's  golden  ass,  centaurs, 
the  remora  which  stops  the  course  of  ships,  sphinxes, 
creatures  with  fore -feet  like  hands  and  hind -feet  like 
men's  feet ;  "  leucrocutes,"  which  have  necks,  tails,  and 
breasts  like  a  lion,  legs  like  a  stag,  the  mouth  up  to  the 
ears,  with  two  teeth,  one  above  and  one  below.  These 
are  creatures  which  speak  with  human  voices,  and  when 


HEARSAY.  175 

they  do  they  say  nothing :   there  are  also  many  other 
curious  and  interesting  animals. 

A  little  higher  up  is  the  country  of  Tapestry,  where 
they  see  unheard-of  splendours — Triton  winding  his  sil- 
ver shell  instead  of  a  horn,  and  also  Glaucus,  Proteus, 
Nereus,  and  a  thousand  other  gods  and  sea-monsters. 
They  take  everything  to  he  real,  so  artfully  constructed 
is  the  tapestry.  And  then  they  come  across  a  most 
remarkable  tribe  of  people.  These  are  gathered  round  an 
old  man,  diminutive  and  monstrous,  called  Hearsay. 
His  mouth  was  slit  up  to  his  ears,  and  in  it  were  seven 
tongues,  each  of  them  cleft  into  seven  parts.  And  he 
was  chattering  and  talking  with  the  whole  seven  at  once. 
He  had  as  many  ears  all  over  his  body  as  Argus  had  eyes, 
and  was  as  blind  as  a  mole,  and  palsied  in  the  legs. 

"About  him  stood  an  innumerable  number  of  men  and 
women,  gaping,  listening,  and  hearing  very  intently,  and 
among  them  I  saw  one  who  held  a  map  of  the  world  and 
explained  everything  summarily  and  in  short  aphorisms,  so 
that  they  all  grew  learned  in  a  trice,  and  would  most  talk  of 
a  world  of  prodigious  things,  the  hundredth  part  of  which 
would  take  up  more  than  a  man's  whole  life  to  learn. 

"Among  the  rest,  of  the  Pyramids,  of  the  Nile,  of  Babylon, 
of  the  Troglodytes,  of  the  pigmies,  of  the  cannibals,  of  the 
Hyperborean  mountains,  of  all  the  devils,  and  everything 
by  hearsay." 

Leaving  the  island  of  Hearsay  and  of  Tradition,  they 
steer  over  straight  for  Lantern  Land,  the  land  of  light 
and  truth. 

Before  we  arrive  there  and  learn  the  oracle  of  the 
Bottle,  let  us  briefly  recapitulate  the  principal  events  of 
this  remarkable  voyage.     We  must  remember,  first,  what 


17$  RABELAIS. 

it  was  they  were  in  search  of.  An  idle  doubt,  the  vagary 
of  a  busy,  restless  mind,  suggests  the  first  inquiry,  "  Shall 
Panurge  be  married  1 "  What  answer  is  given  by  the 
oracles,  the  astrologers,  the  wise  men,  the  witches,  whom 
he  consults  1  None.  Is  there,  then,  no  voice  from  the 
unseen  world  which  directs  the  course  of  men?  No 
narrower  issue  than  this  is  present  to  the  mind  of  Panta- 
gruel.  In  search  of  an  answer,  he  leads  his  followers  on 
this  long  voyage  among  undiscovered  islands.  We  see 
the  island  of  Pretence  and  Ostentation;  the  island  of 
Lip-service  and  Hollow  Politeness;  the  islands  of 
Confusion  and  Desolation,  where  war  has  lately  been : 
the  island  of  the  Long-lived,  where  in  dark  forests, 
among  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  temples,  dwell  the 
great  men  of  old ;  the  island  of  Tapinois,  where  Quar- 
esme-prenant  is  described,  with  the  follies  of  Lent; 
the  island  of  the  Chitterlings;  that  of  Smoke  and 
Windy  Doctrine;  that  of  Pope-fig-land ;  that  of  Papi- 
manie ;  the  country  of  great  King  Gaster,  the  He  Son- 
nante,  the  islands  of  Tools,  of  Gambling,  of  the  Furred 
Cats,  of  the  Tax-farmers,  of  Queen  Entelecheia,  of  Roads, 
of  Sabots,  of  Mumbling  Friars,  and  of  Legendary  Animals 
and  Things.  We  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  certain 
persons  whom  we  shall  not  easily  forget — Quaresine- 
prenant,  Bishop  Homenas,  Gaster,  iEdituus,  Grippe- 
minaud,  and  Queen  Entelecheia.  We  have  seen  the 
development  of  the  principal  characters  in  the  book — 
Pantagruel,  Panurge,  and  Friar  John — and  we  have 
learned  a  great  deal.  We  are  prepared  for  the  oracle, 
whatever  it  may  be,  by  the  warnings  we  have  received 
and  the  lessons  which  our  adventurers  have  taught  us. 
It  is  a  vain  thing  to  look  for  advice,  aid,  or  information 


RECAPITULATION.  177 

from  magic,  divination,  sorcery,  or  astrology.  If  we  want 
to  find  truth  we  must  ourselves  search  for  it.  Armed 
with  store  of  the  herb  Pantagruelion,  which  means 
courage,  patience,  and  hope,  we  must  aim  at  simpli- 
city, avoiding  pretence,  conceit,  affectation.  The  justice 
of  the  world  is  generally  chicanery ;  its  wars  are  due  to 
ambition;  vain  and  idolatrous  are  the  superstitions  of 
the  Roman  Catholics,  who  ignorantly  adore  the  Pope ; 
stupid,  useless,  and  mischievous  are  the  religious  orders, 
with  their  rules  which  mean  nothing,  their  ignorance, 
their  gluttony,  and  their  licentious  lives.  The  justice  of 
the  world  is  often  administered  by  cruel  and  rapacious 
judges,  scholastic  subtilties,  men  childish,  and  lead  to  no 
result.  If,  then,  there  is  in  the  world  no  religion,  no 
justice,  no  truth,  no  honesty,  nothing  real,  nothing  what 
it  pretends  to  be,  what  remains  for  men  ?  So  far,  there 
is  nothing,  but  to  lay  in  good  store  of  Pantagruelion,  that 
potent  herb,  and  to  hope  for  the  oracle  of  the  Divine 
Bottlet 


F.C. — YTH 


178 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   ORACLE    OF   THE   BOTTLE. 

The  Divine  Bottle  is  within  its  temple,  which  occupies 
one  of  the  islands  of  Lantern  Land,  a  country  whose 
inhabitants  consist  entirely  of  lanterns,  lamps,  cressets, 
and  candlesticks.  The  travellers  were  fortunate  in 
arriving  at  the  time  when  the  Lanterns  were  holding 
their  provincial  chapter.  They  were  introduced  to  the 
Queen  by  two  Lanterns  of  honour — namely,  those  of 
Aristophanes  and  of  Cleanthes.  Panurge,  the  great 
linguist,  set  forth  briefly  to  the  Queen,  in  Lantern  lan- 
guage, the  causes  of  their  visit.  Her  Majesty  was  clothed 
in  virgin  glass,  the  Lanterns  of  the  blood-royal  in  imita- 
tion diamonds,  transparent  stones,  horn,  paper,  and  oiled 
cloth.  The  Cressets  were  dressed  in  like  manner,  ac- 
cording to  the  antiquity  of  their  houses.  Among  them, 
and  occupying  a  distinguished  place,  were  the  Lanterns 
of  Epictetus  and  Martial.  At  supper  they  were  all 
sumptuously  regaled  with  great  candles,  the  Queen  alone 
having  a  wax  candle.  The  next  day  the  Queen  gave 
them  the  choice  among  the  most  illustrious  lanterns  for 
a  guide. 

The  idea  of  Lantern  Land  is  taken  from  Lucian :  but 


LANTERN    LAND.  179 

its  meaning  is  obvious.  We  are  in  the  land  of  light, 
where  truth  will  be  made  manifest  to  us. 

It  is  not  without  endless  ceremonies  and  precautions 
that  the  party  are  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
Dive  Bouteille.  Preceded  by  the  Lantern  which  guides 
them,  they  first  pass  through  a  vast  vineyard,  in  which 
are  all  sorts  of  vines,  bearing  fruit,  flowers,  and  leaves 
all  the  year  round.  Then  they  were  ordered  to  eat, 
every  man,  three  grapes,  to  put  vine -leaves  in  their 
shoes,  and  to  take  a  green  vine-branch  in  their  left  hands. 
At  the  end  of  the  vineyard  was  an  arch,  on  which  was 
sculptured  the  trophy  of  a  drinker,  consisting  of  all 
kinds  of  drinking-glasses,  and  everything  that  stimulates 
thirst,  such  as  hams,  tongues,  cheese.  The  arch  opened 
into  a  covered  way,  whose  roof  was  formed  by  the  inter- 
laced branches  of  vines  loaded  with  clusters  of  different 
colours,  and  ending  in  three  ivy- trees,  the  leaves  of 
which  they  were  directed  to  gather  and  make  into 
"Albanian"  hats — that  is,  a  kind  of  turban. 

Then  they  went  through  an  underground  vault,  the 
walls  of  which  were  coarsely  painted  with  a  dance  of 
women  and  satyrs,  which  reminded  Eabelais,  who  now 
himself  formed  one  of  the  party,  of  the  "  painted  cave  " 
at  Chinon.  The  cave  remains  to  this  day,  deeply 
quarried  in  the  yellow  stone  of  the  great  rock  behind 
the  town,  but  there  are  no  traces  of  any  painting. 

Here  they  were  challenged  by  the  Grand  Flask, 
governor  of  the  Divine  Bottle,  accompanied  by  a  troop 
of  temple-guards,  all  being  French  bottles.  Seeing  that 
the  party  were  crowned  with  ivy  and  carried  the  thyrsus, 
and  were  conducted  by  the  illustrious  Lantern,  he  gave 
orders  that  they  should  be  led  to  the  Priestess  Bacbuc, 


180  RABELAIS. 

Lady  of  Honour  to  the  Bottle  and  Pontiff  of  all  the 
mysteries.  They  continue  to  descend ;  the  way  is  long ; 
there  is  no  light  but  that  given  by  the  Lantern ;  Panurge 
falls  into  a  deadly  fear,  and  entreats  to  be  taken  back ; 
Friar  John  and  the  Lantern  reassure  him.  After  a 
hundred  and  eight  steps — the  number  is  symbolic — of 
the  dark  staircase,  they  come  to  a  portal  of  fine  jasper, 
on  the  face  of  which  was  written,  in  letters  of  gold, 
rv  otva)  aXrjOeia. — in  wine  is  truth.  The  two  doors  were 
of  Corinthian  brass,  curiously  wrought.  Here  the 
Lantern  informed  them  that  she  could  go  no  further, 
advised  them  to  obey  the  injunctions  of  the  Priestess 
Bacbuc,  to  keep  their  heads,  to  have  no  fear,  and  to 
trust  her  for  their  return.  She  then  opened  the  gates, 
which  proved  to  be  covered  on  the  inside  with  steel, 
and  to  move  backwards  and  forwards  by  the  power  of 
two  loadstones,  on  one  of  which  was  written — 

"  Ducunt  volentem  fata,  nolentem  trahunt." 
The  fates  lead  the  willing  and  drag  the  unwilling. 

and  on  the  other — 

"  Toutes  choses  se  meuvent  en  leur  fin." 
All  things  move  towards  their  end. 

They  entered  the  temple,  the  pavement,  roof,  and  walls 
of  which  are  all  most  curiously  adorned  with  mosaic- 
work.  On  the  floor  were  represented  flowers,  grapes,  vine- 
branches,  snails,  and  little  lizards,  so  true  to  life  that 
they  could  not  forbear  walking  carefully  for  fear  of 
getting  their  feet  entangled.  The  work  on  the  walls 
represented  the  army  of  Bacchus,  with  his  maenads  and 
satyrs,  who  were  commanded  by  Silenus  and  Pan.    After 


THE    TEMPLE.  181 

the  representation  of  his  army  came  that  of  the  battle 
in  which  the  god  destroyed  the  Indian  army;  and 
finally  his  triumph,  with,  at  the  far  end,  a  prospect  of 
the  land  of  Egypt. 

The  temple  was  illuminated  by  a  wonderful  lamp,  the 
description  of  which  occupies  a  chapter.  Under  the 
lamp  was  a  fair  "  fantastic"  fountain,  at  which  they  were 
met  by  the  Priestess  Bacbuc  herself  with  joyous  and 
laughing  face,  and  accompanied  by  her  suite.  The  foun- 
tain was  constructed  of  pure  alabaster,  about  two  and 
a  half  feet  high,  being  on  the  outside  a  regular  heptagon, 
and  within  a  perfect  circle.  On  each  side  was  placed  a 
pillar,  whose  disposition  and  height  signified  the  approxi- 
mate proportion  of  the  circumference  to  the  diameter  of  a 
circle.  The  pillars  were  of  those  precious  stones  assigned 
by  the  Chaldeans  to  the  seven  planets — sapphire,  hya- 
cinth, diamond,  ruby,  emerald,  agate,  and  syenite.  Upon 
them  stood  images  of  Saturn,  in  lead ;  of  Jupiter,  in 
brass ;  of  Phoebus,  in  gold ;  of  Mars,  in  Corinthian  brass ; 
of  Venus,  in  copper ;  of  Mercury,  in  fixed  quicksilver ; 
and  of  Luna,  in  silver.  Above  these  pillars  rose  a  cupola, 
within  which  were  figured  the  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac, 
the  twelve  months  of  the  year,  the  two  equinoxes,  the 
ecliptic  line,  and  the  fixed  stars  about  the  antarctic  pole. 

They  are  invited  to  drink  of  this  fountain,  and  find 
that  its  waters  taste  of  any  kind  of  wine  which  they 
fancy — hence  it  is  called  the  Fantastic  Fountain. 

Then  Bacbuc,  taking  Panurge,  who  desired  the  oracle 
of  the  Bottle,  dressed  him  and  prepared  him  for  the 
sacred  rite.  He  was  attired  in  a  gaberdine,  his  head 
wrapped  round  with  a  hood,  gloves  were  put  upon  him, 
he  was  tied  round  with  three  bagpipes,  his  face  dipped 


182  BABELAIS. 

three  times  in  the  fountain,  he  was  sprinkled  with  flour, 
he  was  muffled  with  a  filter,  and  three  cock's  feathers 
were  fixed  in  it.  Thus  accoutred,  he  was  iuade  to  jump 
three  times,  to  sit  upon  the  ground  seven  times,  while 
Bacbuc  read  strange  conjurations  in  the  Etruscan  tongue 
from  a  hook  of  ritual  which  one  of  her  niystagogues  car- 
ried for  her. 

Then  she  led  him  by  the  right  hand  through  a  golden 
gate  out  of  the  temple,  and  into  a  round  chapel  built  of 
transparent  stone,  and  of  richer  workmanship  than  even 
that  chapel  built  by  Theodoric  at  Eavenna.  Within  it 
was  another  heptagonal  fountain,  in  the  midst  of  which 
stood  the  Divine  Bottle.  It  was  of  oval  shape,  all  of 
pure,  fine  crystal. 

And  then  they  sang  the  song  of  invocation. 

The  translation  subjoined  is  not  much  more  rough  than 
the  original 

"  Bottle  divine, 

O'ercharged  and  full 

With  fate  and  fear : 

I  here  incline 

One  ear  too  dull 

Thy  voice  to  hear. 
My  heart  hangs  now  on  thee : 
Thy  heavenly  liquor,  fair  to  see, 
By  the  great  victor-God's  decree 
The  fates  and  future  holds  contained. 
O  wine  divine,  far,  far  from  thee  enchained 
Are  falsehoods,  lies,  pretence,  and  fond  deceits ; 
Blessed  has  the  soul  of  Noah  since  remained, 
Because  he  made  us  sinners  know  thy  sweets. 
The  answer  give  whereat  all  doubt  retreats. 
So  may  no  drop,  or  white  or  red, 
Of  thee  be  wasted,  lost,  or  shed. 


THE    ORACLE.  183 

Bottle  divine 
O'ercharged  and  full 
With  fate  and  fear : 
I  here  incline 
One  ear  too  dull 
Thy  voice  to  hear." 

This  finished,  Bacbuc  threw  something  into  the  foun- 
tain which  caused  the  water  to  boil  violently.  Panurge 
listened  with  his  one  ear  in  silence.  Bacbuc  was  on  her 
knees.  Presently  from  the  bottle  issued  a  noise  such 
as  that  of  a  swarm  of  young  bees,  or  as  that  of  a  bolt 
from  an  arbalist,  or  that  of  a  sudden  shower.  And 
then  was  heard  from  the  bottle  the  word  "  Trincq." 

" '  The  bottle  is  broken,'  cried  Panurge,  in  amazement — 
1  or  it  is  cracked,  at  least.' 

"  Then  Bacbuc  arose  and  took  Panurge  gently  by  the  arm, 
saying  to  him,  *  Friend,  render  thanks  to  heaven,  as  reason 
obliges  you.  Now  have  you  promptly  heard  the  word  of 
the  Divine  Bottle.  I  say,  the  word,  more  joyous,  more  divine, 
more  certain  than  any  that  I  have  heard  since  first  I  began 
to  minister  at  this  most  sacred  oracle.  Rise  and  let  us  go  to 
the  Chapter,  where  we  shall  find  the  interpretation  of  this 
fair  word.' 

"  '  Let  us  go,'  said  Panurge,  '  in  the  name  of  God.  I  am 
as  wise  as  I  was  last  year.' " 

The  Chapter  is  a  flask,  of  which  Panurge  drinks,  and 
straightway  falls  into  a  Bacchic  madness,  in  which  Friar 
John  joins  him  out  of  sympathy,  and  they  rhyme  in 
mad  verse,  Panurge  still  thinking  of  his  original  per- 
plexity.    Then  the  priestess  dismisses  them. 

"  Here  below,  in  these  circumcentral  regions,  we  establish 
as  the  sovereign  good  not  to  take  and  receive,  but  to  impart 
and  give ;  and  we  reckon  ourselves  happy,  not  if  we  take 


184  RABELAIS. 

muck  of  others'  goods,  but  if  we  are  always  imparting  and 
giving  of  our  own  to  others.  .  .  .  Go,  friends,  in  the 
protection  of  that  intellectual  sphere  of  which  the  centre  is 
everywhere  and  the  circumference  nowhere,  which  we  call 
God.  And  when  you  go  back  to  your  own  country,  bear 
testimony  that  under  ground  are  all  great  treasures  and 
admirable  things.  .  .  .  All  philosophers  and  ancient 
sages,  the  more  surely  and  pleasantly  to  accomplish  the 
road  of  divine  knowledge  and  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  have 
esteemed  two  things  necessary — the  guidance  of  God,  and 
the  friendship  of  men.  Now  go,  in  the  name  of  God ;  and 
may  He  be  your  guide  ! " 

This  is  the  end  of  the  Book,  and  these  are  the  last  words 
of  the  Oracle  of  the  Bottle. 

What  does  it  mean  ?  Panurge  said,  at  the  end  of  it, 
that  he  was  no  wiser  than  before.  No  answer  has  been 
given  to  his  question,  if  he  is  to  marry  or  no.  None 
has  been  given  to  that  far  wider  question  which  fills 
the  mind  of  Pantagruel,  whether  there  is,  or  ever  has 
been,  any  voice  from  the  world  beyond  the  grave.  The 
great,  wise  prince  has  tried  every  mode  of  divination,  has 
consulted  every  oracle,  has  quoted  every  classical  author, 
has  conversed  with  every  priest  who  pretends  to  super- 
natural power.  He  finds  nothing  but  silence,  pretence, 
and  hypocrisy.  Everywhere  in  the  world,  in  the  motion 
of  the  planets,  in  the  wondrous  mechanism  of  the  body, 
he  finds  the  work  of  the  divine  hand,  the  design  of  the 
divine  mind ;  but  to  all  his  prayers,  all  his  cries,  all  his 
yearnings,  there  is  silence.  The  truest  wisdom  is  in  the 
"  divine  word  "  of  the  Bottle — drink. 

The  meaning  of  the  oracle,  as  expounded  by  the 
priestess,  seems  plain.  In  it  we  see  the  creed  of  Rabelais. 
He  differed  from  the  theologians  and  the  speculative 


THE    CREED    OF   RABELAIS.  A  85 

scholars  of  his  time  in  two  most  important  respects. 
He  did  not,  like  Calvin,  Luther,  and  Roussel,  take  his 
stand   upon   the  New   Testament.      He   did   not,   like 
Dolet  and  Desperiers,  take  Cicero  for  an  evangel.     He 
was,   in   the   first  place  and   before   all,    a  student  of 
Nature,  a  man  of  science ;  and,  in  the  second,  a  scholar. 
The    Gospel    was    associated    in    his    mind    with    the 
degradation  of  the  cloister ;   it   belonged  to  monkery. 
When  he  emerged,  he  left  it  behind  him  in  the  stern 
religious  light  of  the  monastery  chapel,  and  never  cared 
to  look  at  it  again.     He  built  up  his  own  religion  for 
himself.      God   is   everywhere:   this  man's   mind  was 
filled  with  the  omnipresence,  the  perfection,  the  order, 
the  benevolence  of  God.     Not  only  in  times  of  danger, 
but   as   an  act  of    daily   duty,   does  his  wise  prince 
supplicate  and  revere  God  the  Creator;  while  in  the 
harmony  of  the  stars,  and  in  the  admirable  mechanism 
of  the  body,  Rabelais,  astronomer,   physicist,   and  an- 
atomist, saw  not  only  a  physical  order  of  which  human 
intellect  can  grasp  only  portions,  but  he  deduced  also, 
by   analogy,    the   laws   which   should   govern   societies 
and  individuals.    The  conduct  of  life  should  be  ruled, 
had  we  the  knowledge,  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
laws    of    nature.      It    is   man's   first   duty   to   acquire 
knowledge,  to  give  and  impart  knowledge,  like  the  in- 
habitants of  Lantern  Land :  there  is  nothing  in  all  the 
world  worth  having  but  knowledge,  and  especially  phy- 
sical science.     Let  every  man  possess  his  soul  with  cheer- 
fulness ;  let  him  eat ;  let  him  drink ;  let  him  enjoy  the 
golden  sunshine  and  the  purple  wine;   let  him  sing, 
laugh,  and  talk  with  his  fellows ;   let  him  exhort  and 
be  exhorted  continually  to  study,  to    the   practice   of 
research,  to  patience,  and  to  charity  ;  let  him  have  faith 


186  KABELAIS. 

in  the  Divine  Creator.  Live  according  to  the  laws  of 
the  world.     Nature  laughs.     God  rules  in  sunshine. 

And  about  the  soul  1  and  about  a  future  world  ?  Go 
ask  your  oracles,  says  Rabelais,  and  see  what  answer 
they  will  give.  But  the  good  God,  who  has  created  this 
wondrous  cosmos,  who  gives  us  His  continual  grace  to 
nake  us  love  learning  and  each  other,  reigns.  Let  us  trust 
Him,  because  there  is  none  other  that  fighteth  for  us. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  prove  that  Rabelais  was 
a  Christian.  To  suppose  this  is,  in  my  mind,  not  only 
seriously  to  misunderstand  the  spirit  of  his  book,  but  that 
of  his  time.  The  scholars  of  France  at  this  period,  the 
men  with  whom  he  associated,  were  Christians  only  in 
name,  and  when  no  danger  of  martyrdom  appeared  immi- 
nent. Let  us  again  insist  that  Rabelais  came  out  of  his 
cloister  at  forty.  While  the  great  Revolt  was  slowly 
preparing  in  men's  minds,  he  had  remained  untouched 
by  any  of  the  influences  which  brought  about  religious 
change;  or,  if  touched  at  all,  then  individually  and 
separately,  as  one  who  rediscovers  in  his  cell  something 
of  what  has  already  been  discovered  and  made  known 
in  the  outer  world.  He  came,  a  Frenchman  of  forty  and 
a  stranger,  into  France,  whose  religion  was  tottering, 
whose  educational  methods  were  superannuated,  whose 
doctors,  advocates,  and  preachers  were  pedantic,  whose 
judges  were  corrupt,  and  whose  ignorance  was  enormous. 
He  came  as  a  stranger  and  outsider,  and  looked  on 
everything  as  those  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
midst  of  this  state  of  things  could  not  look.  Though 
from  time  to  time  he  might  be  drawn  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Geneva,  it  was  but  a  momentary  temptation. 
The  only  Christianity,  unfortunately,  which  he  knew, 
was  that  of  the  monastery :  he  could  not  but  know  that 


THE    FAITH    OF    RABELAIS.  187 

there  is  nowhere,  whether  in  history  or  in  the  Book  on 
which  Christianity  rests,  the  least  foundation  for  the 
sacerdotal  pretensions  and  superstitious  structures  which 
he  confused  with  the  religion  of  Christ.  He  ceased 
to  vex  his  soul  about  the  rival  schools.  He  created  a 
new  religion  for  himself,  the  religion  which  in  his  time 
a  man  of  science  might  he  expected  to  create. 

Trust  in  the  Lord  of  all  power,  the  eternal  Father, 
the  Creator,  the  Architect  of  the  world,  whose  benevo- 
lence is  shown  by  His  works.  Trust  in  Him,  work 
out  your  own  life  for  the  good  of  others,  enjoy  and  be 
happy,  as  becomes  a  grateful  mortal.  That  seems  to  me 
the  creed,  that  the  secret,  that  the  key  to  Rabelais. 
After  all,  it  is  the  practical  creed  of  every  Frenchman  of 
the  present  day,  save  those  unfortunates  whose  mothers 
clap  a  shirt  over  their  little  frocks,  cut  a  round  place  in 
their  hair,  and  mumble  certain  incantations  over  their 
unhappy  heads,  which  turn  the  poor  children  into  mona- 
gauXy  clergaux,  evesgaux,  or  cardingaux,  to  live  in  a  cage, 
sing  when  the  bell  rings,  and  pretend  to  conjure. 

It  is  impossible  to  avoid  a  comparison,  in  the  matter 
of  religion,  between  Lucretius  and  Eabelais.  Both  were 
profoundly  impressed  with  the  order  and  magnificence 
of  creation,  both  were  deeply  indignant  with  the  religious 
abuses  of  the  day — 

"  Tantum  religio  possit  suadere  malorum ! " 

Both  had  the  same  thing  to  offer  in  its  place — physical 
science.  But  Rabelais  superadds  the  trust  and  faith  in 
the  Creator  which  was  wanting  in  Lucretius.  Both,  at  an 
interval  of  fifteen  hundred  years,  anticipated  the  nine- 
teenth century  in  its  rest  less  discontent  of  old  beliefs,  its 
fearless  questioning,  its  advocacy  of  scientific  research. 


188  RABELAIS. 

It  has  been  found  impossible  in  this  short  volume  to 
trace  the  sources  of  the  Eabelaisian  stories.  The  Master, 
like  Moliere  and  like  Shakespeare,  gets  his  materials  wher- 
ever he  can :  he  seldom  invents.  Why,  indeed,  should 
he  invent  1  He  had  those  works  of  the  ancients  which, 
to  the  people  for  whom  he  wrote,  were  sealed  books ;  he 
could  draw  upon  these  as  much  as  he  pleased.  There 
were  Lucian,  Plutarch,  and  Aristophanes,  treasuries  for 
illustration,  suggestion,  and  imitation ;  there  were  Plato, 
Virgil,  Horace,  Martial,  and  Seneca  to  furnish  him  with 
quotation ;  there  were  Italians  like  Cortigiano,  Boccacio, 
and  Folengo ;  there  were  Pierre  Pathelin,  Villon,  and  the 
rest  of  his  countrymen  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The 
sources  of  apologue,  story,  and  illustration  belong  to  such 
a  critical  edition  of  Eabelais  as  it  is  to  be  hoped  some 
Englishman  may  yet  be  found  to  give  to  the  world. 
But  he  must  give  ten  years  to  the  task.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  Rabelais  has  never  yet  been  "  edited  " 
at  all 

He  wrote  for  the  people;  he  wrote  so  that  in  parts 
scholars  only  should  be  able  to  read  between  the  lines. 
Panurge,  for  instance,  saw  nothing  in  the  response  of  the 
Bottle  but  an  injunction  to  drink.  Let  those  who  are 
\vorthy  learn  the  true  meaning  of  the  oracle.  But  he 
wrote  in  a  glorious  hope  and  confidence  that  the  number 
of  those  who  would  read  with  understanding  was  in- 
creasing day  by  day.  He  hoped  and  had  faith  in  the 
future  of  the  world.  He  believed  in  the  development 
and  growth  of  man.  We,  of  little  faith,  who  have 
reached  levels  of  liberty  far  higher  than  any  Rabelais 
dreamed  of,  who  tremble  at  the  signs  of  any  little  im- 
pending reaction,  may  think  of  what  the  world  was  in 
his  time,  of  what  it  is  now,  and  take  hope  again  with 


THE    HOPE    OF    RABELAIS.  189 

shame  and  abasement.     Is  it  not  a  good  thing  to  he 
strong  of  heart  1 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  main  idea  in  the  mind 
of  Rabelais,  to  show,  by  the  new  light  of  recently  dis- 
covered learning,  what  the  world  could  be  made,  is  ob- 
scured by  his  method  of  treatment.  No  doubt  an  allegory 
penetrates  and  is  understood,  where  a  treatise  would  not 
be  intelligible.  But  the  allegory  winds  and  turns  with 
so  many  digressions,  and  with  so  little  apparent  sequence, 
until  we  come  to  the  famous  Voyage,  that  it  is  difficult 
always  to  follow  the  thread.  Nor  do  I  think  that  at  the 
beginning,  in  the  First  Book  of  "Pantagruel,"  he  designed 
more  than  a  running  satire  on  certain  institutions.  And 
the  whole  breadth  of  his  purpose  is  not  fully  apparent 
until  the  Third  Book.  It  is  true,  also,  that  a  treatise 
developing  his  ideas  directly  would  have  led  him  most 
certainly,  whither  he  had  the  greatest  reluctance  to  go,  to 
the  stake.  Therefore  he  readily  accepted  the  disguise  of 
parable.  Further,  to  make  this  parable  the  more  agree- 
able to  all  classes  of  men,  he  stuffed  it  full  of  all  manner 
of  jests,  buffooneries,  and  things  which  it  was  a  shame 
for  so  wise  a  man  to  write.  There  is  no  excuse  for  the 
great  sin  of  Rabelais.  To  speak  of  the  taste  of  the  age 
is  nonsense.  In  no  age,  however  corrupt,  have  the 
highest  minds  consented  to  make  men  of  low  tastes 
laugh.  Erasmus,  for  instance,  was  his  contemporary, 
and  Erasmus  may  be  almost  read  in  a  boy's  school. 
But  Rabelais  liked  buffoonery.  He  acted  in  a  farce  at 
fifty,  after  he  had  been  lecturing  and  publicly  demon- 
strating in  his  university.  His  love  of  buffoonery  is 
a  charge  brought  against  him  as  an  undoubted  fact 
by  his  contemporaries — not  one  of  those  traditions,  like 


190  RABELAIS. 

those  attaching  to  his  life  and  death,  which  grew  tip 
in  the  course  of  years.  When  he  died,  Ronsard  and 
Du  Bellay,  worshippers  of  form  and  pedants  in  words, 
brought  separately  against  the  dead  man  the  only  charge 
open  to  them,  that  he  was  fond  of  wine,  feasting,  and 
mirth.  "Laugh,"  says  Joachim  du  Bellay,  "if  you 
wish  to  please  my  soul." 

His  ready  wit,  his  extraordinary  good  spirits,  his  de- 
light in  the  society  of  other  men,  laid  him  open,  no 
doubt,  to  the  accusation  of  buffoonery  and  gluttony.  To 
those  of  us  who  would  be  blind  to  his  faults,  he  is 
that  rarest  of  human  beings — a  man  who  has  deeply 
studied,  who  is  perpetually  thinking  over,  the  problems 
of  life  and  death,  birth,  growth,  and  decay;  who  per- 
ceives the  many  disappointments  inevitable  at  every  step 
of  civilisation ;  who  feels  the  silence  of  the  universe ;  who 
ardently  desires  fuller  knowledge,  more  light, — and  yet 
who  maintains  to  the  end  of  life  the  cheerfulness  and 
the  hope  of  youth.  There  is  no  malice  in  the  old  man 
at  the  close  of  his  long  life,  save  when  he  speaks  of  those 
monks  and  priests  who  alone  hindered  the  realisation  of 
his  dream,  as  they  still  hinder  it.  If  the  soul  of  Rabe- 
lais is  permitted  to  watch  the  course  of  events,  he  must 
be  sad  at  heart,  and  growing  daily  more  sad,  to  mark 
how,  while  the  centuries  roll  on,  the  falsities  over  which 
his  soul  grew  angry  know  no  abatement,  and  continue  to 
produce  their  poisonous  fruit  for  the  destruction  of  the 
human  race. 

In  Pantagruel  we  have  the  type  of  the  wise,  calm,  and 
courageous  king.  He  is  terrified  by  no  storms,  he  is 
equal  to  all  emergencies,  he  is  moved  by  no  unworthy 
passions  of  ambition  and  conquest.  It  is  good  when  such 
a  king  can  be  produced  by  education,  that  a  country 


THE    TYPES    OF    RABELAIS.  191 

should  be  ruled  by  a  sovereign.  The  courtiers  of  the 
king,  Epistemon,  Eusthenes,  and  the  rest,  are  the  type, 
as  their  names  denote,  of  Wisdom,  Strength,  Patience, 
and  Dexterity.  He  has  no  priest  about  him  at  all,  and 
does  not  feel  the  want  of  a  priest.  With  him  are 
two  followers  who  represent  the  lower  forms  of  human 
nature.  Friar  John  is  ignorant,  courageous,  and  full  of 
animalism.  Although  a  monk,  he  has  no  piety,  learning, 
or  industry.  He  is  a  good  man  spoiled  by  the  indul- 
gence of  animal  instincts  and  obedience  to  profitless  rule. 
The  other,  Panurge,  is,  I  believe,  the  careful  portrait 
of  a  man  without  a  soul.  He  is  full  of  cleverness  and 
learning.  He  is  full  of  wit  and  intelligence.  But  he 
has  no  soul.  That  part  of  humanity  which  gives  us 
sympathy,  generosity,  dignity,  nobility,  is  deficient  in 
him.  He  is  an  animal,  but  a  reasoning  animal.  He  is 
what  a  monkey  might  be,  coidd  a  monkey  be  so  trained. 
To  him,  as  to  Friar  John,  the  oracle  of  the  Divine 
Bottle  conveys  nothing  beyond  the  simple  meaning  of 
the  word — "  drink." 

Each  of  his  minor  characters  has  got  a  small  but  well- 
defined  part  to  play.  The  good  Bishop  Homenas,  wor- 
shipper of  the  Pope,  is  the  type  of  the  old-fashioned 
ignorant  priest.  Judge  Bridlegoose  illustrates  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  law,  since  his  decisions,  pronounced  entirely 
by  chance,  have  given  universal  satisfaction.  Ponocrates, 
who  comes  from  Laugh-at-the-Pope  Land,  is  the  type 
and  model  of  a  wise  tutor ;  and  so  on  with  all  the  rest. 

In  the  education  of  Gargantua  we  have  a  scheme  of 
education  which  has  never  been  equalled,  and  which  is 
far  before  our  own  time,  as  it  was  far  before  the  time  of 
Rabelais.  But  as  solitary  education  is  not  desirable,  he 
gives  us  the  plan  of  his  Abbey  of  Thelema,  in  which 


192  RABELAIS. 

courtesy  and  gentlehood  are  the  only  laws,  and  hon- 
ourable love  the  natural  end  of  the  association  of  young 
men  and  maidens.  In  the  wars  with  Picrochole  and 
Anarchus,  Rabelais  insists  on  discipline  and  good  order 
when  as  yet  there  was  no  discipline,  as  we  understand  it, 
in  any  army  save  that  recently  introduced  by  Coligny. 
He  shows  how  ^Necessity  is  the  greatest  of  all  benefac- 
tors of  the  human  race;  he  keeps  constantly  before  his 
readers  the  wondrous  order  of  the  universe,  and  teaches 
how  men,  societies,  and  nations  should  imitate  the 
mutual  dependence  of  every  part  of  creation;  he  sings 
the  praises  of  fortitude,  patience,  and  industry  under  the 
allegory  of  the  herb  Pantagruelion ;  he  speaks  with  the 
rapture  of  a  prophet  of  the  delight  of  study. 

All  this,  and  more,  he  taught,  and  was  the  first  to 
teach.  But,  one  hears,  he  is  a  buffoon — he  is  always 
mocking,  and  always  laughing.  That  is  perfectly  true. 
He  laughs  at  the  pretensions  of  Pope,  cardinal,  bishop, 
and  priest;  he  laughs  at  monkery  and  monks;  he  mocks 
at  the  perpetual  iteration  of  litanies ;  he  laughs  at  the 
ignorance  and  superstitions  which  he  thinks  are  about  to 
vanish  before  the  new  day  of  modern  learning ;  he  laughs 
at  the  ambition  of  kings  who  dream  of  universal  con- 
quest ;  he  laughs  at  the  Chats  Fourres,  the  Furred  Cats 
of  the  law;  he  laughs  at  the  false  eloquence  of  doctors, 
and  the  sham  learning  of  advocates;  he  laughs  at  the 
impotent  attempts  of  Ronsard  and  his  followers  to  change 
suddenly  the  noble  language  of  France. 

If  to  laugh  at  things  mischievous  or  foolish  is  to  be 
condemned,  then  let  us  condemn  Rabelais.  He  does  not 
laugh  at  religion,  as  he  conceived  religion ;  or  at  kings, 
as  kings  might  be ;  or  at  physicians,  who  were  like  unto 


THE  FAULTS  OF  RABELAIS.        193 

himself  rather  than  unto  Nostradamus,  the  predicter ;  or 
at  any  good  thing,  or  valuable  institution. 

There  are  three  things  in  Eabelais  to  he  deplored  or 
condemned.  The  first  has  been  already  sufficiently  al- 
luded to.  The  second  is,  that  there  are  no  women  in 
the  book.  From  the  force  of  long  habit,  from  his  thirty 
years  of  the  cloister,  he  looked  on  life  entirely  from  the 
man's  point  of  view.  No  women  at  all,  except  poor 
Badebec,  the  priestess  Bacbuc,  a  hag  or  two,  and  Queen 
Entelecheia.  Yet  in  the  Abbey  of  Thelema  he  shows 
that  he  could  form  a  right  conception  of  the  part  which 
women  should  take  in  that  fuller  life  of  which  he  there 
dreamed. 

The  third  and  most  deplorable  of  all  is  the  effect 
which  his  book  produced  upon  the  prospects  of  the 
Reformation  in  France.  It  was  at  that  time  all  import- 
ant that,  as  in  England,  the  scholars  should  range  them- 
selves on  the  Protestant  side.  Eabelais  refused  to  do 
this.  More,  he  set  an  example  which  deterred  other 
scholars,  and  kept  them,  in  sheer  impatience,  in  the 
enemy's  camp.  Had  that  assemblage  of  scholars  which 
met  together  in  banquet  after  the  acquittal  of  Dolet 
gone  boldly  over  to  the  camp  of  Geneva,  and  drawn  with 
them  the  nobler  spirits  of  the  Sorbonne,  the  wavering 
king  would  have  hesitated  no  longer;  France  might 
have  followed  the  example  of  England,  and  created  a 
Gallican  Church  in  which,  as  here,  freedom  of  thought 
and  utterance  might  slowly  win  its  way. 

One  last  word  on  the  style  of  Eabelais.     He  was  a 

child  of  the  people,  coming  from  that  part  of  France 

where  the  language  is  the  purest  and  most  copious.     He 

used  that  language  as  no  other  French  writer  has  been 

f.c. — VIII.  N 


194  RABELAIS. 

able  to  use  it,  showing  what  a  copious,  flexible,  and 
delicate  instrument  it  is.  He  is  not  a  conscious  artist ; 
he  is  careless  of  form;  he  often  allows  most  excellent 
situations  to  be,  so  to  speak,  wasted;  he  repeats  his 
ideas  when  he  can  improve  them ;  his  imagination  sees 
clearly,  with  absolute  distinctness,  down  to  every  detail, 
what  he  describes ;  he  is  more  careful  than  even  Victor 
Hugo  himself  to  describe  exactly;  he  heightens  the 
vividness  of  his  pictures  by  the  enumeration  of  every 
detail,  sparing  us  none ;  and  he  is  always  cheerful,  with 
a  spontaneous  gaiety  of  soul,  for  ever  bubbling  up  like  a 
full  spring  upon  a  hillside.  More  than  this,  he  is  al- 
ways sensible,  and  he  is  always  full  of  hope. 

Cheerful,  light-hearted,  full  of  good  sense,  of  faith, 
hope,  and  charity,  an  advocate  of  all  good  things,  an 
enemy  of  all  hypocrisies ;  and  yet  he  has  written  so  that 
those  who  read  him  have  to  show  a  reason  why  they 
read  him,  so  that  those  who  praise  him  have  to  explain 
why  they  praise  him,  so  that  no  woman  can  ever  read 
him,  and  so  that  priests  have  just  cause  to  condemn 
him,  independently  of  his  derision  and  mockery  of  their 
pretensions.     The  pity  of  it  I 


JEND  OF  RABELAB. 


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4Au^Ji;D 


JUN  12  ^3b 


JUN  14  19?* 


rr~ 


APR   a    mo 


JUL  28  19 


G 


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4PP    y    1947 


r^  G»^ 


TZW^V^ 


- — 


28^ar'63TDi 


JAN  31 


*& 


6 


Q 


"I*** 


i 


0  \SW 


— r 


r 


--  3I179QI 


LD  21-100m-8,'34 


u. 


YB  49947 


!*,      V 


514072 


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